Five Years Later
by lesbiansdoITbetter
Summary: Five years after Gretchen and Claire part ways, fate brings them together again. A lot has changed, but, some things never change ... Chapters will be submitted as regularly as possible. reviews, comments, and criticisms are always welcome!
1. Chapter 1

5 Years Later: Chapter One

Twenty-four year-old Gretchen Berg stands in line at Starbucks, staring at the floor. Her hands are stuffed deep into the pockets of the long, brown trench-coat she is wearing. A television in the corner is playing the morning news, but she isn't paying attention.

The person in line ahead of her receives their coffee and spins around, bumping into her and spilling a few drops of foam on her coat. She looks up. The man smiles apologetically and shrugs, but races past her anyway. He is wearing a suit, and has a crooked smile.

"Sorry!" he shouts, already halfway out the door.

"Yeah ... thanks," mutters Gretchen, smiling up at the cashier with a sigh.

Gretchen grabs a couple of napkins and blots at her coat.

"May I help you?" says the cheerful cashier.

"God, I hope so," Gretchen replies, still smiling in self-deprecation. "Can I get a tall mocha?"

"Sure. That'll be 5.55."

Gretchen reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a wallet. As she opens it to look for the bills, she hears the reporter on television say, "For the first time in her career, famed bank robber Claire Bennet caused a civilian fatality today when she robbed a bank in downtown Manhattan."

Gretchen drops the wallet absentmindedly. Keeping her eyes on the television, she bends to pick it up.

"A bank customer was shot during the robbery and has been pronounced dead," the reporter continues. "No word on whether Bennet was the one to fire the shots or not. Witnesses are still in the process of being questioned by police."

Gretchen slowly rises, eyes glued to the screen as Claire's image is shown. It is a blurry image captured by a bank camera.

"Bennet has been evading police for four long years, and how she gets in and out of such crowded banks without being seen remains a mystery. She has been caught on camera several times, but witnesses never remember seeing her arrive or depart. If you have any information on Claire Bennet ..."

"Ma'am?" comes another voice, pulling her back to reality. "Ma'am? Do you still want the mocha?"

Gretchen blinks at the cashier, as if seeing her for the first time. The cashier blinks back.

"Oh!" declares Gretchen, looking back into her wallet.

She fishes out a five and a one and hands them to the cashier, blushing.

"Sorry," Gretchen says with a flustered smile, shaking her head.

The cashier makes the change, but Gretchen waves it off, gesturing for her to keep it. The cashier shrugs and pockets the change.

Gretchen steps aside and waits for her mocha, deep in thought.

*******************

Upon arriving at work, Gretchen removes her coat and hangs it up before shutting the door to her office. A black jacket hangs next to it. Though the big, bright letters on the back of the jacket are wrinkled, they clearly read: NYPD.

Gretchen sits down at her desk and immediately turns on her computer. She enters Claire's name into a database and waits. A message reading "processing request" appears on the computer screen.

While she is waiting, a knock comes at her door, followed by someone's sudden entrance. She instantly turns off the computer.

"Well, hello," says detective Dick Adams, giving her a peculiar smile. "Are you all right? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

Gretchen gives him a weak smile in return. "Something like that," she says.

Trying much too hard to appear slick, as usual, Detective Adams saunters over and takes a seat on the edge of her desk. He raises one eyebrow and leans forward.

"Guess what case we just both got handed?" he says, as if he is a part of some wonderfully kept secret.

Gretchen sighs, disappointed to be paired with Adams at all, regardless of the case.

"What case, Detective Adams?" she asks, pretending to show some interest, but not pretending very well.

"I told you, Gretch," he says, giving her an imaginary elbow nudge. "Call me Dick. Please."

"Whatever," she replies flatly. "What case ... Dick?"

Detective Adams grins and sits up straighter, chin tilted with pride. "The murder that happened today at Manhattan Mutual? During the Bennet robbery? I've been assigned lead homicide, and you've been assigned to lead the forensics team."

"What?" she replies, eyes wide with surprise.

"I thought you'd be pleased," he says, standing again. "Up until now, all you've been given is missing person cases."

"That's because I'm only a year out of the academy!"

"Who cares about the academy?" he asks with a nonchalant shrug. "You were recruited because of your brains, not your policing skills. The academy was just a formality."

She stands as well, coming around the desk to face him. "Yeah, but ... I've never _led a team before, _Dick! Especially on a murder case!"

"What are you worried about? You graduated first in your class! And, you've been waiting for this for over a year now! You finally have the chance to really prove yourself!"

Gretchen heaves a heavy sigh, dropping her chin to her chest. "I don't know. I mean, I wasn't even first to the scene. How am I going to led an investigation when I wasn't even first at the scene?"

"Whoa! Don't get ahead of yourself there, kid," laughs Detective Adams, "I'm the one leading the investigation. You will be answering to me."

"Well," she says, looking up at him, "were _you_ first at the scene?"

He nods. "I was."

"What happened?"

"Don't know for sure. The camera caught Claire Bennet, as usual, and some pieces of the action, but witnesses don't remember a thing."

"What do you mean they don't remember a thing?" Gretchen asks, looking uneasy.

"Apparently, witnesses _never_ remember seeing Claire Bennet ... or a robbery, for that matter."

"I thought they didn't remember seeing her enter or leave, not that they didn't remember anything at all."

"Well, you have to admit, Gretch," he says, looking a little uneasy himself. "It is a pretty strange. It would be one thing if it happened at one robbery. Then, you could say, 'maybe she paid everyone off', or ... maybe 'there was just something in the water that day'. But, for it to happen at _every_ robbery ... well, obviously we wouldn't want the press to get wind of that. They'd have a field day speculating. So, we've downplayed the truth ... a little bit."

Gretchen leans against her desk, putting a hand to her head to keep it from spinning.

"You said the tape showed some pieces of the action? Do you have it?"

He smiles, patting his vest pocket. "Right here."

Gretchen nods towards the computer and sighs, "let's see it, then."

Detective Adams walks around her desk and takes a seat in her chair, sliding the disk from his pocket into the computer. Gretchen comes around too, and stands behind him. As she waits, she absentmindedly chews on a fingernail.

In a moment, an image of the bank's lobby appears on the computer screen and Claire pops into view, seemingly out of nowhere. She is wearing all black, but isn't bothering to cover her face. She isn't even wearing a wig. Her trademark blond locks stand in stark comparison to her dark clothing, as if she is daring the world to identify and locate her.

On her way to the teller's station, she even looks up at the camera and smiles.

There is no sound to the tape recording, but Gretchen clearly recognizes the sight of Claire screaming something as she draws a gun. In the background, behind Claire, Gretchen sees another gun pointed at the tellers. But the arm goes nowhere, out of the range of the camera's viewfinder.

After the teller returns and fills Claire's bag, Claire turns to leave, but is shot square in the chest by an unseen assailant. The shot sends her reeling, out of camera shot. The teller screams and ducks under the table. Then, the picture becomes nothing but static.

Detective Adams ejects the disk and puts it back in his pocket.

"There was another person there with Claire ... er, Bennet," Gretchen points out. "An accomplice."

"Yeah, I noticed that too," Detective Adams replies, staring at the blank computer screen. "Standing behind Bennet, like they had her back. I have a feeling that's the person who actually killed our civilian. Everything here suggests that Bennet was shot first, so it's highly unlikely that she was able to get back up and fire."

Gretchen nods slowly. "Right. Highly unlikely."

"But, as for who shot Bennet in the first place, or whom her associate may be, we're still drawing blanks. Our dead civilian was just in the way. We didn't find a weapon on him, only a PTA card from his kid's school."

"Well, what _do_ we have? Besides the tape?" she asks.

He shrugs with an embarrassed laugh. "Nothing," he replies. "But, get your stuff together and I'll take you over to the crime scene. Maybe a new set of eyes will help."

"Sure," she tells him, trying to look cool and collected. "Just ... give me a minute."

He gives her a nod and starts to leave, then pauses at the door and turns back around.

"There's just one more thing that I cannot seem to wrap my head around ..." he tells her.

"What's that, Dick?"

"Well, when our first responders took a look at the amount of blood that Bennet had lost they almost fainted. They said they'd never seen someone lose that much blood and manage to survive ... let alone walk away and vanish into thin air."

"Yeah," Gretchen replies, swallowing hard. "Weird."

"Well, anyway ... I'll meet you in the car."

"I'll be right down."

Detective Adams exits, closing the door behind him.

The minute the door closes, Gretchen lets out a deep breath and looks out the window. The sun is rising high above the New York skyline, and people are teeming up and down the streets. From where she is standing, they look like ants. And, as she watches them, she cannot help but wonder ... are any of them Claire?

*to be continued...*


	2. Chapter 2

Five Years Later: Chapter Two

Gretchen and Detective Adams duck under the yellow tape that surrounds the bank, making their way towards it's revolving doors. On the sidewalk, the excitement over the robbery is waning. A few reporters linger, asking questions of the uniformed officers that guard the perimeter, but the reporters seem relaxed and quiet. Across the street, people go about their daily business, hardly taking notice of the yellow tape at all.

Inside the bank, it is also quiet. Only one officer remains. He takes a snapshot of a piece of evidence across the room and smiles up at them, nodding. They nod back, and he moves on to the next piece of evidence without a word.

As they approach the tellers station, Gretchen looks up at the camera that caught Claire smiling. She pauses for a moment, then turns to follow her partner.

"Well, here's the pool of blood Bennet left behind," Adams says, looking down at the floor. "Pretty nasty, huh?"

Gretchen looks down as well. Her stomach turns, and her knees get wobbly, but she manages to remain conscious.

"Holy Mother of ..." Gretchen starts to say.

"And, get this," he tells her quietly, "not a drop spilt on the way out. No matter what direction we took as her possible escape route, even right out the front door, we didn't find another drop of blood anywhere. Not one."

"Have someone collect a sample of this," Gretchen tells him.

He gives her a peculiar look.

She smiles nervously. "I realize we already know Bennet's identity, but perhaps there are genetic markers that would help us locate her."

"As in?" he questions, looking intrigued but doubtful.

"As in, whether she's diabetic or not. If she has any health problems at all, ones that would require constant attention, then we could track her to a hospital or a clinic. After all, we may know her identity, but they may not. She could be using an alias to receive treatment."

"What makes you think we haven't checked her medical history already? Seems like a pretty sensible thing for us to do."

"Did you?" she asks.

He smiles, cocking his head to one side. "Yes, except ... Claire Bennet doesn't _have_ a medical history. As far as we can tell, she's never seen a doctor in her life."

"That seems odd," Gretchen remarks.

"Gretch ..." Adams says, looking her over skeptically. "Why am I getting the feeling you already _knew_ Bennet didn't have a medical history?"

"Don't be ridiculous. How would I know that?"

"Why would you assume we hadn't checked already? That's standard on any investigation like this."

Gretchen shrugs. "Well," she says, "you're the one who admitted they didn't recruit me for my policing skills ... remember?"

Looking back at the floor, she spots an evidence marker and bends down for a closer inspection. It is the bullet that hit Claire in the chest. Gretchen puts on a glove and picks it up, turning it around in her hand. It is crushed, as if someone hit it with a sledge hammer.

"This is a .40 caliber bullet," Gretchen says, standing up to show him. "The same kind we use in our 22s."

"A lot of people use .40 caliber," he replies. "Nothing strange about that."

Gretchen pulls out a baggie and places the bullet inside, then stuffs it in her pocket.

"What other evidence is there?" she asks.

"Not much," he admits. "Some fingerprints, a chewing gum wrapper ... nothing that's going to lead us to Bennet."

"Do you really think we're going to catch Bennet?" she asks, giving him a doubtful smile. "She's never been caught, you know. Not even for jaywalking."

His cell phone rings in his pocket. The ringtone is the theme song from Hawaii 5-0. Gretchen tries not to laugh.

"If anyone can find us a new lead, I'm sure it's you, Gretch," he tells her, fishing for the phone. "Will you excuse me? I have to take this."

He turns and takes several steps away, speaking quietly to the person on the other end.

While his back is turned, Gretchen kneels beside the pool of blood. She quickly opens her purse and pulls out a toothpick and a glass slide. She looks over her shoulder to make sure he still isn't watching, then dips the toothpick in the blood. It is sticky from coagulation, but wet enough to stick to the slide. She covers the slide, sticks it in a baggie, and stuffs everything back in her purse.

When she stands back up, Detective Adams is still on the phone, paying no attention to her. She sighs in relief.

Then, she looks back at the pool of blood and tilts her head. Usually, the sight of this much blood would have made her faint, despite her academy training to do otherwise. But, knowing that it came from Claire ... she doesn't know whether to feel relieved ... or scared to death.

* * *

After having lunch alone, Gretchen returns to her office, locking the door behind her. She sits down at her desk and enters Claire's name into the computer again. This time, after waiting a few moments, a new message pops up on the screen. It reads: "Access denied." Her brow furrows in confusion, and she tries again, being careful to enter everything right. But she only comes up with the same result.

"Access _denied_?" she thinks aloud, rubbing her chin.

She clicks on an icon and pulls up the internet. She googles Claire's name. This time, she is greeted with a long list of options. But it is just everything she's heard before: speculation, theory, or just straight out gossip.

Thanks to her long list of successful bank robberies, her constant and miraculous ability to evade authorities, and, of course, her natural ability to charm the camera, Claire Bennet isn't just a media sensation. She is _the_ media sensation.

And Gretchen has followed her story all along. Except, now she can't just follow out of her own curiosity. Now, she is a part of the machine that is out to stop Claire- for good.

She swallows hard and clicks on the fist link. She has already clicked on most of these links before. This time, however, she is determined to go through each and every one of them. She will not leave a stone unturned.

* * *

It is well past eight o'clock when Gretchen finally looks up from her searching and sees the time at the top of the computer screen. She blinks hard a few times, and shakes her head to regain focus.

Knowing that everyone else has probably already gone home, she takes the glass slide from her purse and places it in her pocket.

She exits her office and walks slowly down the corridor, checking around to see if anyone is still there. At the end of the corridor, she reaches a steel door. She scans her identification card on the panel next to it, and the lock clicks open. She turns the handle and goes inside.

She walks down another corridor, and enters a lab room through double, swinging doors. She turns on the lights and takes a white smock from one of the hangers.

Behind her, the doors swing open, letting in a breeze. She is startled for a moment, then hears the air conditioning unit kick on. She lets out a sigh of relief, laughing at herself, and puts on the smock.

Pulling up a stool to sit on, she places the slide under a microscope and peers in. She is astounded at what she sees.

"Wow ..." she says in awe.

"Pretty neat, huh?" comes a familiar voice in response, as if from right behind her.

Gretchen spins around on her stool. Claire Bennet stands in front of her, giving her a provocative grin.

Gretchen jumps back in surprise, but only manages to smack her back against the table.

"I am assuming that's _my_ blood you're looking at?" Claire asks, nodding towards the microscope.

"H ... How did you get in here?" stutters Gretchen, suddenly remembering the cool breeze that had swept in just moments earlier.

Claire gives a short laugh and cocks her head, giving Gretchen a look that makes her even more queasy than seeing the pool of blood. "Now ... why would I want to tell you that?" she asks, taking one step closer. "It seems to me that you and I are standing on opposite sides ... for now."

"On opposite sides of what?" Gretchen begs to know.

"You should really be testing that bullet you picked up today, instead of obsessing over my blood sample," Claire tells her, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not obsess... Wait a minute. How do you know about the bullet I picked up?"

Claire shrugs. "Well, I was the one that got hit by it."

"It's already been through ballistics ... earlier today. There were no matches in the system," Gretchen tells her, speeding through the information as if it were insignificant.

"_Claire_ ... what is going on? Someone was killed today in that robbery. An innocent person!"

"No matches in the _system_," Claire points out, ignoring the rest. "You aren't testing it against the right gun."

Gretchen shakes her head, confused, then waves off her remark entirely. "Okay, look ... can we just forget about all that right now? I haven't seen you in five years, Claire. Except for when you've been on the 6 o'clock news."

"That isn't my fault," says Claire, looking almost hurt beneath her steely exterior.

"I'm not saying it's anyone's fault," Gretchen explains. "I'm just saying ... Look, I'm a cop now ... I may not _look_ like one, but ... I _am_ ... technically. And, I'm giving you a chance here ... to tell me _what the hell is going on with you_. I should be cuffing you! But, I'm giving you a chance. Do you get that?"

"Yeah," answers Claire, "I get that, okay? But I don't have time for that right now. For now, you're just going to have to trust me."

"Trust you," laughs Gretchen, looking up at the ceiling. "Trust _you? _A known felon? A fugitive? You do know I'm leading the forensics team on your case, _right? _Of course you do! You know everything!"

Claire grabs her arm, which has been thrashing around wildly during her tirade. "That's not true," she says, slowly releasing it. "I don't know how you feel about me anymore."

"Well ... that should be obvious," says Gretchen with a nervous laugh. "I haven't cuffed you yet ... have I?"

Claire smiles and, this time, it is a warm smile. For a moment, Gretchen sees the old Claire shining out from underneath this new and colder version.

"Test the bullet against your partner's guns," she tells Gretchen.

"What?" asks Gretchen in surprise, blinking.

"I'll be in touch with you soon," Claire says. "And, we'll have a longer talk next time, I promise."

Before Gretchen can open her mouth to say more, Claire vanishes into thin air. The double doors swing open for a minute, then swing shut again.

Gretchen reaches down and pinches herself hard in the arm.

"Ouch! Damn it."

This is not a dream.

*to be continued*


	3. Chapter 3

Five Years Later: Chapter Three

All night long, while the rest of the people who worked in her building were at home sleeping, Gretchen fired guns. Detective Adams, the _partner_ she assumed Claire had been referring to, only kept two guns that shot .40 caliber ammo: A Smith and Wesson, and a glock 22 like her own, which was standard police issue. But, just for comparison, she fired her own as well, and a few others she could get her hands on.

Her gut said to trust Claire. But, at the same time, her gut felt twisted into a million knots at the moment.

She had run out of guns to fire at about 2 a.m. Now, she is sitting back in the lab, comparing fired bullets. She checks each one carefully by sight, wearing a magnifying eyepiece. After going through several bullets, she stops at one in particular. The markings are very similar. Similar enough to make chills go up her spine. But, she needs to be sure.

She places both the bullet that hit Claire and the bullet in her hand into a comparison macroscope, and looks through the lens. The markings appear identical. But, even with the deep-seeded trust she holds for Claire, she cannot believe it. She gets up from the table and grabs her thermos of coffee. She pours some in the lid and sips at it, pacing the floor in shock.

After a moment, she goes back to the macroscope and peers into the lens again. Nothing has changed. The bullet that hit Claire was fired from her own partner's glock. But ... why?

Gretchen's head is spinning. Suddenly, the whole weight of the day hits her, and she realizes she's been up since 6 a.m. Fatigue grabs at her like a phantom and threatens to pull her under. She grabs both of the bullets and stuffs them in her pocket.

This will have to wait until Monday. She hangs up the smock and grabs her trench coat, yawning. Perhaps, in the morning, after she's had time to rest, things will look a little clearer.

Putting it all out of her mind, _as much as is possible_, she exits the room, exits the building, and hails a cab home.

* * *

The next morning, when Gretchen awakes, she opens her eyes to find that she is not in the same bed she laid down in the night before. She is groggy, and her vision is blurry, but it looks like she is in a hotel room. She sits up, but a wave of dizziness stops her from standing. She looks around and sees an old television, a writing desk, and an end-table. Other than that, the small room is bare.

Just as she tries to stand again, the doorknob jiggles. She freezes in motion and holds her breath, anticipating any number of horrible fates in her mind.

She has no idea how she got here.

The door opens, and Claire Bennet enters, wearing an apologetic grin and carrying a tray of breakfast food. Gretchen relaxes, but only a little. Her stomach growls as the smell of the food wafts through the room, and she doesn't know whether to be extremely angry for the displacement and confusion, or grateful for the chance to eat.

"Sorry," says Claire, setting the tray on the desk for the moment. "Please don't hate me ... I promise this is all for a good reason."

Gretchen tries to focus her eyes as Claire sits down at the end of the bed. Claire crosses her legs, bouncing one nervously up and down, and gives Gretchen a look of concern.

"We had to give you a mild sedative," she explains, seeing Gretchen squint at her. "It should wear off soon."

"Where am I?" Gretchen finally asks.

"Someplace safe," says Claire. "You weren't safe in your apartment anymore. We had to get you out."

"_We?" _

"My friends and I," replies Claire, as if this should clear up all confusion.

"What made you think I wasn't safe in my apartment?" asks Gretchen. "And ... why couldn't you just _tell me_ that?"

Claire shrugs. "Wasn't sure you'd believe me," she says, "And, I didn't have time to convince you."

Claire pulls a cell phone from her pocket and searches it for the proper video.

"Watch this," she says, handing the phone to Gretchen.

Gretchen takes the phone, her hand shaking, and watches the tiny screen. A street level view of her apartment appears. In a moment, the apartment explodes from the side of the building, sending glass and other material flying in a rain of fire. People on the street scream in terror, running for cover, then the video shuts off.

"We got you out just minutes earlier," Claire tells her. "We were lucky. We were told the explosion would happen an hour later than it did."

"You were _told _my apartment was going to _explode_?" Gretchen exclaims, her eyesight finally improving. "By who?"

"Gretchen ..." Claire says, obviously not ready to speak on _that_ subject just yet, "Did you test your partner's guns last night?"

Gretchen nods. "It was a match. Which reminds me ... _you still haven't told me what the hell is going on!_ Claire, why did my partner _not tell me_ he was in that bank? How did he _know you would be there_? And, _where the fuck am I_ ... pardon my language!"

Claire smiles at the last comment Gretchen makes, seeing the sincerity in it, even put, as it was, at the end of an angry tirade.

"Okay, okay," Claire says, putting up her hands in defeat. "I'm sorry. Listen, there is a lot to tell. And I mean, _a lot_. For now, can I just ... show you around?"

"Show me around _what_?" asks Gretchen, more curious now than afraid.

"Our home," Claire says with a proud grin. "I can fill you in on the details while we walk."

"What about breakfast?" Gretchen says, looking over at the food once more.

Claire looks back at the food too, as if she's forgotten it. "Oh!" she says, "Well, I guess that sedative _is_ finally wearing off. Can you see better yet?"

Gretchen looks at Claire. Her green eyes are twinkling, and her face is framed by luscious blonde curls, causing it to appear heart-shaped. Her smile is warm, but flirtatious, and the tiny t-shirt and shorts she is wearing hug her in all the right places.

The past five years have been kind to Claire, who doesn't appear to have aged at all.

"Yeah," Gretchen finally says. "I can see just fine."

"Good," chirps Claire, uncrossing her legs to stand. "So, I'll leave you to your breakfast and come back in a few minutes."

She hops up from the bed and moves to the door, ready to exit.

"Wait!" says Gretchen suddenly, standing as well.

Claire turns, her hand still on the doorknob.

"Stay," invites Gretchen, biting down on her bottom lip nervously. "I mean ... if you want to. We don't have to talk."

Claire smiles and nods, taking her hand off the door. "I thought you'd never ask."


	4. Chapter 4

*Author's note: it is probably wise to let everyone know, at this point, that this story veers from the original Heroes _canon_, starting after the episode _"Shadowboxing"_ (in case you hadn't already noticed on your own, which seems unlikely)

Five Years Later: Chapter Four

Once Gretchen has finished her breakfast, she and Claire step outside her room and into a hallway, which also resembles that of a hotel. It is lined with numbered doors and has an elevator at the end.

Claire shuts the door behind them and locks it, pocketing the key.

"This is what I call our _dorm_," she tells Gretchen, as they slowly make their way towards the elevator. "Hiro calls it _evolve housing ... _but, he's always making up special names for things. We just nod and smile and go along with whatever he says. It makes him feel special."

Claire pushes a button on the elevator and waits, folding her hands behind her back.

"Wait ..." says Gretchen, already confused. "Who is _Hiro_ and what is an _evolve_?"

"Ah. Well, an _evolve_ is the term the government uses now when referring to one of us with abilities. They used to call us _specials_, now they call us _evolves_. Go figure. They're always changing their minds about these things."

"So, the government _knows_ about you?"

"The government knows about _evolves_," Claire corrects. "They don't know so much about _me_."

The elevator finally opens, and Claire gestures for Gretchen to enter first, holding the door open.

"Okay ... so, how long has the government known about ... evolves?" Gretchen asks, once the elevator doors have shut.

"_This_ time?" replies Claire, "Not long. But, there's been independent cells working against us off and on all along. My dad ... you met him, right? He worked for one of those cells once. It was called the Company. But, we've never faced an opposition like _this_ before. What we're facing now is on a whole different level."

"And my partner, Detective Adams ..." says Gretchen, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Is he involved in this?"

"Did you just figure that out?" Claire asks, suppressing a chuckle.

"Are you making _fun of me_ now?" replies Gretchen defensively.

Claire bites down hard on her bottom lip, trying her best not to let the laugh out. "I thought you were a forensic scientist."

Gretchen reaches past her, anger distorting her usually serene features, and pushes the red stop button. Claire hangs on to the side-railing as the elevator screeches to a halt.

"Oh, man," Claire sighs, still smiling. "I wish you hadn't done that."

"You have a lot of nerve, you know that?" cries out Gretchen, "I didn't _ask_ for this, you know! The least you could do is ... I don't know! Be _nice_?"

Claire hides her smile and tries her best to look serious. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I was just teasing you. Lighten up."

"Lighten up?" Gretchen exclaims. "I'm caught in the middle of some kind of ... mutant, x-men war ... and you want me to _lighten up_?"

Claire sucks in air through her teeth, looking worried. "Ooh ... I wouldn't say that in front of Hiro. He's kind of sensitive about the whole x-man comparison."

Gretchen looks flabbergasted. "Who the hell is this Hiro guy you keep mentioning?"

Suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, a man appears in the elevator with them. He is dressed in a strange costume, an all black one-piece suit that reminds Gretchen of a ninja's apparel and, like most other ninjas, he also appears to be asian. However, taking away from this menacing appearance somewhat, he is also wearing a pair of glasses, which he has to keep pushing back up his nose, as they keep sliding back down.

"Is there a problem, Claire?" he asks sincerely, seemingly unsurprised to see Gretchen standing next to her.

"Gretchen," Claire says, gesturing towards the man, "I'd like you to meet Hiro, our leader. Hiro, this is Gretchen Berg."

Hiro smiles at Gretchen and waves emphatically. "Hello," he greets. His accent is broken, but his english is spot on.

"When the elevator alarm went off, I got worried," he tells Claire, turning his attention away from Gretchen for the moment. "Is everything okay in here?"

"We're fine," she promises, waving off his concern. "Isn't that right, Gretch?"

Gretchen nods slowly, still unused to people popping in and out of thin air as he did. Hiro nods back, taking note of her shocked expression.

"Okey, dokey then," he says, "I'll leave you to things."

He blinks his eyes shut hard, scrunching his face. And, in an instant, he is gone.

"Wow," says Gretchen in awe. "What's _his_ ability?"

"He bends time and space," Claire answers.

"How many of you _are there_ here?" she asks next.

Claire shrugs. "Not a whole lot. We've looked for more, but ... it's become pretty hard these days to find people. After all, the government is looking for them too."

She says this last line with an air of ominousness.

"Why is the government looking for all of you?" Gretchen questions on.

"Because they're _afraid_ of us," Claire says, as if Gretchen should have assumed that on her own.

"What do you think they would do if they ... caught you?" she asks finally, fearing she already knows the answer.

Claire takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly. "I'm not sure I want to know," she replies, suddenly very serious. "Experiments, maybe. Tests. I know it wouldn't be pleasant."

"I'm sorry," says Gretchen quietly in response. "I had no idea."

"No," says Claire, stepping forward. "I'm the one that should be sorry. You were right when you said you didn't ask for this. But, Gretch ... you gotta understand ... When I found out that you had been assigned my case ... I just couldn't wait around to see what would happen. No offense, but ... I was afraid you were in over your head with this."

Gretchen nods in agreement as Claire begins to pace the small area around them.

"I mean, geez!" Claire exclaims, "I never thought in a million years that you would become a cop! I thought the reason you left me was because you were _afraid_! Why would you ever turn around and decide to face danger like that?"

"I didn't," Gretchen assures her. "I just wanted to study forensics. You remember my fascination with crime scenes, right? I just wanted to be one of the people who _solved_ things. I never intended on facing any ... danger."

Claire stops her pacing and gives Gretchen another apologetic smile. "And now I've thrown you right into the fire. I am _so_ sorry, Gretch. But ... what else could I do? I couldn't let you ..."

Gretchen swallows hard and says, "... die?"

"I was going to say get hurt," Claire corrects, "but ... yeah. I wasn't about to let _anything_ ... happen to you."

Gretchen and Claire exchange long glances for a moment. During the exchange, Gretchen feels her heart start to race, and has to look away, fearing it might just explode at her feet if she stares at Claire any longer.

"Claire, I ..." Gretchen starts to say.

Claire shakes her head, suddenly gripped by some unseen emotion, and says, "Wait, let me go first."

But, before she can say anything more, the elevator suddenly starts to move again, and they both grip the side-railing for balance.

"What's going on?" Gretchen asks.

"Don't know," replies Claire, furrowing her brow, "Someone must have re-started it downstairs."

In a moment, the elevator comes to a stop and opens it's doors. Standing there, waiting for them with her arms crossed, is someone Gretchen remembers all too well. It is Becky, their old sorority sister from college; the invisible girl who had attacked Gretchen and sent her running home with her tail tucked between her legs; the very reason she had left Claire's side 5 years earlier.

Becky smiles at Claire and says, "Baby, what was taking so long? I got worried."

Claire steps out of the elevator, giving Gretchen an uneasy look as she passes, and gives Becky a quick kiss on the lips.

Gretchen stands frozen in her spot, speechless, and a little disgusted.

"Becky, you remember Gretchen," Claire says, pulling Gretchen forcefully from the elevator. "Gretchen ... now, don't go freaking out on me. Becky is a good guy now. She's not going to hurt you."

Gretchen gives Claire a disbelieving nod of the head, and thinks quietly to herself in response: _she already has_.


	5. Chapter 5

Five Years Later: Chapter Five

Standing face to face with the woman who had tried to kill her five years earlier, and who was now apparently also Claire's girlfriend, Gretchen suddenly feels her earlier panic return. Claire has still not answered all of her questions. Instead, she has only managed to bring up more of them.

Feeling lost, vulnerable, and most of all confused, Gretchen falls back on the only sure thing she knows. She stiffens her back and attempts to channel her inner cop.

"Excuse us," she tells Becky, grabbing Claire's arm to turn her around.

"Hey!" protests the diminutive blonde.

Gretchen pulls her away from Becky's earshot, huddling in close so that Claire can hear her.

"Okay, the tour is _over_," she informs Claire in a heated whisper. "You're going to talk, and you're going to talk _now_."

Claire sighs, but slowly nods in agreement. Gretchen lets go of her arm, and is surprised to suddenly realize how tightly she had been holding on. For a millisecond, the indentation of Gretchen's fingertips show up blotchy and red on Claire's skin. But, just as quickly, they disappear.

Claire turns back to Becky, giving her an apologetic smile. "Sorry," she tells her with a shrug. "Looks like we're moving on."

Becky slants her eyes a little at Gretchen. "You sure you don't want me to tag along?" she asks Claire.

Claire comes close to laughing at this suggestion. "Positive," she replies.

"Okay," says Becky, still looking Gretchen over distrustfully. "If you need me, you know how to find me."

"Right," answers Claire with a nod.

After shooting Gretchen one last look of warning, Becky nods too, then disappears.

Claire turns back to Gretchen, who is standing with her arms folded across her chest, giving Claire her own look of warning.

Claire sighs, but smiles nonetheless. "Okay. So, I probably should have thought more about how that would effect you."

"You think?"

"I was going to tell you in the elevator," Claire swears, coming closer. "But, just as I was getting ready to say it, we started going down again, and ... well ..."

"Which part were you going to tell me?" Gretchen asks. "The part about her _being here_, or the part about the two of you being a couple now? Which, by the way, seems really, really creepy to me. And ... _weird!_"

"I told you, Gretch ... a lot has happened in five years."

"Yeah? Well, you're going to tell me all of it," Gretchen tells her. "_Now_. And, I mean _everything_."

"But ... don't you want to see the rest of this place first?" Claire implores, coming just a little bit closer. She smiles up at Gretchen hopefully, eyes twinkling. "You haven't even seen the pool. Did I tell you we had an olympic-sized pool?"

Gretchen takes a step back, determined to stay focused and on target. "Look, Claire. If so much has changed in five years, then ... why should I even trust you? Clearly my partner doesn't. Maybe _he's the good guy_ here."

Claire is visibly hurt by this accusation. She furrows her brow, and says, "Is that how you really feel? You think I could be _lying_ to you?"

"Why don't you want to answer all of my questions?"

"Who said I didn't?" asks Claire.

Gretchen is dumbfounded at this. "What? Are you _kidding_ me? You've been dodging a full interview all morning!"

"A full interview?" laughs Claire, still not able to see Gretchen as an officer of the law.

Gretchen narrows her eyes menacingly. "I am still a cop," she reminds her. "I still have a _job_ to do."

Claire smiles, hiding something behind her twinkling green eyes as she looks Gretchen over.

"Fine," she finally says, raising one eyebrow at Gretchen in response. "Ask me anything you want. Except, not here. Follow me. There's something I wanted to show you anyway."

Claire begins walking down the hallway in front of them, watching and waiting for Gretchen to follow her. After a deep breath, Gretchen turns and follows, falling into step beside her.

The hallway is long and deserted. The lights above them flicker incessantly, giving Gretchen a kind of trapped feeling. It is the kind of hallway that a victim would hobble down in a horror movie, trying desperately to escape the killer behind them, even as they suffer through their broken foot or bullet wound. Gretchen can almost see the blood smear on the walls.

"So ... when you gonna start popping off those questions?" Claire asks, breaking the silence.

Gretchen jumps a little at the sound of her voice, putting a hand to her heart in surprise. "What? I'm sorry. I was off somewhere else," she tells Claire.

"Gretchen, are you sure you're a cop?" Claire asks, suppressing a laugh.

"_Seriously_, Claire?" groans Gretchen in response. "You're making fun of me again?"

Claire stops walking and grabs Gretchen's arm so that she'll do the same.

"I'm sorry," she promises, looking up into Gretchen's rolling eyes with sincerity. "Really. I'm not making fun of you."

"You're not making fun of me? _Really_?" replies Gretchen, looking doubtful.

"It's just ... I forgot how cute you can be ... when you're scared."

"I'm not _scared_," claims Gretchen, sounding like someone who is only trying to convince themselves.

"See! Like right then," Claire says, studying Gretchen's face closely beneath the flicker of the lights. "When you said that, your eyes fluttered."

"They did not ..." Gretchen starts to argue, but stops short. She has accidently locked eyes with her old friend, and is again feeling as if her heart might explode. Claire is smiling up at her in that secretive way, which always left her weak in the knees five years ago, and is obviously just as effective five years later.

She tries to break eye-contact; tries to remember what they were _even talking about_, but, it's as if her mind has been hijacked. All she can do is stare into those twinkling green eyes and hope desperately that she is at least remembering to breathe.

"You shouldn't be scared," Claire finally says, backing off a little. "Not of me, anyway."

Gretchen blinks hard, finally breaking the spell she's under, and tries once again to focus.

"Should I be scared of _Becky_?" she asks. "I don't understand, Claire. How in the world did you two ever ... I mean, I didn't even know if you ... _Claire, are you gay?_"

"Are _you?_" Claire asks, raising one eyebrow again and smiling with amusement. "Didn't you tell me once that you had been with plenty of guys?"

"I said I had _dated_ plenty of guys," Gretchen corrects. "But I was nineteen at the time. A lot of guys at that time meant, like, ... _five_."

"I see."

"_And_ ... you are dodging questions again!" Gretchen points out, as if she's just realized this herself.

"I'm sorry," chuckles Claire, "What was the question again? Am I gay? You have all these cop questions you want to ask me, but _that's_ the one you want to start with?"

"Well ... yeah," replies Gretchen, "I mean ... profiling is a very important part of what I do."

"Profiling, huh?" asks Claire dubiously.

"Yeah, _profiling_," insists Gretchen.

"Okay, I'll play along with this," agrees Claire with a sly grin.

She turns and begins walking again, and Gretchen follows, waiting as if on pins and needles for her response.

"As for the answer to your question," Claire begins, "Well ... I don't really know. I know that, right after you left me, I could hardly think about anything else _but_ you. I know that I dreamt about you every night, for weeks, hoping and praying that you would come back. Clearly I had a _little_ gay in me at the time, or, I wouldn't have felt that way."

Gretchen swallows hard, not knowing whether to feel flattered or heartbroken. "So ... how did you and Becky end up ..."

"Long story," says Claire, who then quickly adds, "which I'm planning on telling you _all of_, in just a second. For now, let's just say that Becky and I were kind of _thrown_ together as allies, you know, given certain _circumstances _we were both in at the time, and ... well ... time took care of the rest. But, getting back to your question, I'm not sure if I could tell you if I'm gay or not. After all _I've_ been through in the last five years, that's really been the _last question on my mind_."

Claire stops in front of a large steel door and opens it, flipping a light switch on inside. She gestures for Gretchen to enter ahead of her, and Gretchen steps slowly inside of what appears to be a kitchen.

Claire heads for the refrigerator, leaving Gretchen just inside the door. Gretchen watches with curiosity as Claire begins riffling through the refrigerator's contents.

"You know, I'm really not hungry at the moment," Gretchen tells her, feeling a little irritated by what she sees as just another stalling technique.

Having found what she was so madly searching for, Claire pops up with a proud, "Ah, ha! Found one!" And she is holding up a bruised and battered pear in her hand.

Gretchen comes closer, wondering what would cause Claire to get so excited over a piece of bruised fruit.

"Watch this," Claire tells her, her green eyes dancing with delight.

With Gretchen watching closely, Claire closes her eyes and puts her other hand over the pear, cradling it gently. In a moment, the bruises on the pear begin to fade. It's skin repairs itself before Gretchen's very eyes, turning a solid green, and looking pretty damn tasty all of a sudden.

Claire opens her eyes again, smiling with pride. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"But ... how did you do that?" Gretchen asks her, still in awe over the spectacle. "I thought your ability was to heal _yourself_?"

"That still works too," Claire informs her. "This is just an extension of that. One of the things that has happened in the last five years is that we've learned that we can _expand_ our abilities ... on our_ own_."

"_All_ of you?"

Claire shrugs. "Anyone who wants to learn. It takes practice. But, Hiro is a really great teacher. He's the one who discovered this. But, Gretch ... _that's the good news_."

Claire sucks in her bottom lip and gives Gretchen an uneasy look. "I've kind of been saving the bad news for last," she says.

Gretchen swallows hard and braces herself. "Wh ... What's the _bad news_?"

"Maybe you'd better sit down first," says Claire, pulling a chair out for her.


	6. Chapter 6

Five Years Later: Chapter Six

Gretchen looks at the chair Claire is offering her, and shakes her head no. "I prefer standing for bad news," she explains, looking at Claire as if she were a bomb getting ready to explode.

Claire shrugs and takes the seat for herself, propping her feat on the table in front of her. She leans back carelessly and takes a bite of the pear.

"Suit yourself," she says, her mouth still half-full. "But, this is kind of a _long_ story."

"Could you maybe ... I don't know ... give me the _short_ version?"

"Even the short version is kind of long," Claire warns.

"Fine."

Gretchen pulls out the chair in front of her and sits down across from Claire, folding her arms impatiently. "You could start by telling me what circumstances threw you and Becky ... _together_," she suggests to Claire, raising one eyebrow.

"Don't you think we should start at the beginning?" she replies, taking another bite of the pear.

Gretchen rolls her eyes. "Fine. Whatever. Just ... _start_."

Claire leans forward, allowing the front feet of her chair to finally rest safely on the ground. "Well, I guess, for me, it all started when my father died ..." she begins. "Actually, I kind of lost both of my fathers that night."

"_Both_ of your fathers?" Gretchen asks, her attitude softening a little.

"Right. I guess you didn't really stick around long enough to be filled in on _that whole story_," replies Claire. "My biological father, Nathan Petrelli, and the father you met, Noah Bennet, were both involved ... when my life got completely turned upside down. And, I lost them. I lost them both ..."

Claire trails off at the end, lost in her own thoughts. She has been upbeat and perky all morning, almost annoyingly so. But, suddenly, all that spark has left her in an instant. Her eyes have gone blank, and she stares past Gretchen as if looking at someone else ... or _sometime_ else.

"Oh, Claire," Gretchen breathes out in sympathy, not really meaning to.

Claire's eyes pop back into focus, and she shakes herself, trying to regain some of her earlier pep. "No ... it's okay," she assures Gretchen with a deep inhalation of breath, "I can talk about this now. It's been a long time."

"When did this happen?" asks Gretchen gingerly.

"Not long after you left," sighs Claire, finally setting down the pear and resting her elbows on the table. "A couple of weeks maybe."

Gretchen looks horrified. "Oh my God," she says, "I am so sorry."

"Why would you be sorry?" she asks, lifting her brows. "You didn't kill them."

"But ... I could've been there," imagines Gretchen out loud, "instead of ..."

"There's absolutely nothing you could have done," promises Claire. "In fact, _had_ you been there, you could have easily been killed too. It was a nightmare ... and it would have only been _worse_ if I had lost you too that night."

"Wh ... What ... happened?" asks Gretchen, leaning forward. Suddenly, this doesn't feel like a _full interview_ anymore. It doesn't feel like a _police interview_ at all.

"There was a man," begins Claire, rubbing her bare arm as if chilled, "named Sylar. If I told you _that_ whole story, we'd be here twice the time. Long story short, this man- Sylar- he killed my biological father, Nathan ... I could tell you _how_, but ... it's complicated, and it doesn't even matter anymore. The point is, Sylar is a very disturbed person with very dangerous abilities. The only thing standing between him and the rest of us was Nathan. Once _he_ was out of the way ..."

"Sylar came for the rest of you?" guesses Gretchen, swallowing hard.

"With a vengeance," adds Claire, suddenly looking tired for the first time. "He came to the carnival first ... the one that Becky worked for. He knew the people there could help lead him to _us, _and he wanted to kill Becky's boss, Samuel ... which he _did_. But, my uncle Peter knew he was going there. He called my other father for help, and the two of them went to the carnival to stop Sylar ... _for good_."

"But ... it didn't work? Why?"

"Hiro, the man you met in the elevator ... he was dying of a brain tumor at the time," Claire tries to explain, realizing how crazy all of this must sound, "and Peter, he suddenly realized that Sylar was the only one who could help him. My father and Peter promised Sylar they wouldn't kill him if he helped Hiro."

"Sylar can heal people too?" Gretchen asks.

"Not usually," replies Claire dryly. "He's really good at cutting certain things out of people's brains though. Kind of like laser surgery without the anesthesia."

Gretchen shudders. "Okay. So, he healed Hiro. Then what happened? Why didn't your dad and Peter just kill Sylar _then_?"

Claire shrugs. "They were the good guys," she says simply. "Good guys don't break their word."

"So what _did _they do?"

"My father and another woman, Tracy, took Sylar_ into custody_, whatever_ that_ was supposed to mean," Claire tells her, rolling her eyes. "Where in the hell they thought they were going to take him, I'll never know. There isn't a facility in the world that could hold _Sylar_ ... well, until now."

"What do you mean _until now_?" Gretchen asks.

"We'll get back to that in a second," promises Claire. "What happened next is what you seemed to be so interested in a second ago ... what lead me to _Becky_."

"Right. Sorry," says Gretchen, trying desperately to keep up with this tale. "Go ahead."

"My uncle Peter came to my dorm room at school," she continues, "to keep me safe until they were sure Sylar was put away somewhere he couldn't escape from. Except, that never happened. We never received the call. We never received _any_ call. My father and Tracy were dead. Sylar had fought them in the car. They were like sitting ducks."

"And ... he was loose," Gretchen needlessly points out, her eyes wide with horror. "To come after _you_ next."

"Things were crazy those first few days," recounts Claire, looking past Gretchen again. "Peter was afraid for my life, and I was afraid for his. I wanted to go after Sylar _with_ him. I wanted to _kill_ Sylar with my bare hands. But ... I would have been no match for him. Eventually, I agreed to stay with Hiro at the carnival ... with the others who had managed to survive Sylar's massacre. Becky's boss wasn't the only victim. He killed three others at the carnival before my dad and Peter showed up."

"So, that's how you got to know Becky," surmises Gretchen. "And, all these people _here_ ... they are the other survivors?"

"Most of them," Claire answers, shaking herself once again to regain focus. She locks eyes with Gretchen and smiles, leaning forward with a sigh. "We've managed to find a few others, but ... most of them are from the carnival. We've been living together in one form or another for almost five years."

"And you and Becky ... you ..."

"We didn't get along too well at first," Claire admits, laughing a little. "But, then again, I wasn't getting along with anyone too well at the time. I went into a really dark place, Gretchen. One I thought I'd never crawl back out of."

"Is that why you started robbing banks?" asks Gretchen.

Claire laughs, and it brings back the twinkle in her eyes. She leans back again, and says, "not exactly. Although, I suppose that didn't hurt things either."

"Why _did_ you start robbing banks? Was that Becky's idea?"

"No, it was my idea," Claire says at once, sounding a little defensive. "We were running out of money here, and ... someone had to do _something_."

"Ever heard of getting a job?" jokes Gretchen nervously.

"Not a possibility," explains Claire, leaning forward again. "You see ... here's where we get to that _bad news_ I was telling you about."

Gretchen takes a deep breath. "And here I thought we'd already touched on that," she says.

"Sylar may have escaped my dad, but ... he didn't escape _everyone_," says Claire. "He was eventually captured ... by some government force. A government force that now wants to add _us_ as Sylar's cellmates. They've already managed to round up a lot of us. And, that's not the worst part. The worst part is _what they do with us_ once they have us in custody."

"What do they _do_? I thought you said you didn't _know_!"

"I didn't want to give you too much information at once," claims Claire, biting down on her bottom lip.

"Well, that's not a very good plan!" exclaims Gretchen. "The more you keep from me, the more confused I'm going to be!"

"I know. I get that now, okay?" Claire replies, leaning forward to take Gretchen's hand. "That's why we're sitting here ... you know?"

Gretchen looks down at her hand and back up at Claire. There is a charge running from Claire's hand that stretches all the way up to Gretchen's collar bone, and it scares her. She pulls her hand away reflexively, then clears her throat to refocus the conversation.

"You were getting ready to say something about what they do ... to ... people like you," Gretchen reminds her.

"Right. Well, they basically give them a choice," she says, "to either work _with _them, or to live in a five by five cell for the rest of their lives."

"Not much of a choice," replies Gretchen.

"Exactly. I've heard of a few who've resisted, but ... not many."

"How do you know all this stuff?" asks Gretchen.

"That part's easy," she answers, giving her a sly smile. "We have a psychic. A, uh ... _painter_, actually. Most of them _paint_ their visions. Not sure why."

"And, the government?" Gretchen asks. "How did _they_ know about _all of you_?"

"Well, for starters, they've got my dad's old files," she says. "They found them in a warehouse after he died. If Rene, the Haitian, hadn't been so busy hunting Sylar with Peter, he would've have destroyed them. But, none of us expected the government to be watching for us. We believed that those days were over. Luckily, my dad had erased all mention of _my_ name. That's the only reason I'm able to pull off these robberies! _They don't have a clue who I am_."

Gretchen leans back in her chair, thinking all this over carefully, and trying her best to ignore the physical pull she feels towards Claire. She must be unbiased and think critically, like a _real_ cop. She must forget she has any feelings for Claire _at all_.

She thought she already _had_. A long, long time ago.

"Okay, so ... they got your dad's files, which I'm assuming included dossiers on all the people he had discovered with abilities, minus you, of course ... Except ... how did they know the files would_ be_ there?"

"Same way we're assuming your partner _knew_ I'd be in that bank that day," Claire tells her. "We think they have their own _painter_. Or, someone with a similar ability."

"A psychic? But, if that's the case, how did they stumble upon this _psychic_? If the government didn't know about people with abilities, then why would they _have_ one? They had to have known about you all along."

"I don't think so," says Claire, suddenly interested in where Gretchen is taking this. "My father would have been aware of that. He certainly wouldn't have allowed me to use my real name at college, had he thought otherwise."

"So ... you guys are working on the assumption that the government just _accidently tripped over_ this information, at the exact same time that all this was going down with Sylar and the carnival?"

Claire nods slowly, her eyes intent on Gretchen's every word. "Kind of. Why? What's your theory?"

"You said this government force that's after you asks people to make a choice: to either work with them, or to be put in a cell forever ... right?"

"Well ... I didn't exactly _finish_ that thought," Claire admits. "See, they don't just put them in a cell. They ... _breed_ them. They breed _all of them_, actually. It's just ... some do it willingly. Some _don't_."

Gretchen's jaw drops open in response. "They do ... wh ... wh ... _what_?"

"I know. It's the sickest thing about this," agrees Claire. "Now you know why I don't really _feel bad_ for robbing a few banks."

"But ... why would they ..." she starts to ask, but already knows the answer before she even starts to speak.

"To build an army," says Claire, as if this isn't shocking in the least. "An army of evolves."

Gretchen shakes herself, wondering now if Claire had been right about giving her too much information at once. "Okay. Let's just ... put that one on the back-burner for now. First, I think you may want to reconsider that theory you have on the government just accidently finding your father's warehouse. The government doesn't _accidently_ find anything."

"Sounds logical," agrees Claire. "So ... how _did _they find it?"

"Well, we may be surrounded by the unusual _here_," says Gretchen, "but, I think it may have been something a little more common in this case. Like, say ... a double agent?"

"A double agent?" repeats Claire.

"Yeah. You know ... a spy? A turn-coat? A _traitor_?"

"You mean ... you think one of _us_ told the government?" asks a surprised Claire, eyes wide with disbelief.

"You find that strange?"

"Well, yeah! I mean, who would put themselves at risk like that? What would they have to gain?" Claire asks her.

"You said they gave those who worked _with_ them more freedom," points out Gretchen. "That made me think. Someone with enough ambition and a cold enough heart could have easily assumed, or _hoped_ at least, that they would be given some kind of leadership position in exchange for information. That may have even been their plan all along ... to not only start a war against their own kind, but to _lead it_ as well."

Claire is already shaking her head before Gretchen ends her thought. "No way. There's no one here like _that_," she assures her without hesitation. "These are all good people here."

"Are you sure? Claire, no offense, but ... for a superhero, I kind of remember you being a little naive when it came to trusting people."

Claire balks at this idea. "_What?_ That is entirely untrue. And, anyway ... maybe I was a little naive _before_. But ... not anymore, Gretch. I've learned a lot."

"You're robbing banks for money," Gretchen reminds her.

"How else do you expect us to_ feed _ourselves when there is a government agent waiting to take us in _around every corner_?"

"Fine," Gretchen huffs in defeat. "Then ... tell me more about Becky. How did you two ... become _interested_ in each other?"

"You don't think _Becky's_ the traitor? _Do you?_"

"I didn't say that," Gretchen says. "But ... I mean ... How well do you really _know_ her, Claire?"

Claire stiffens and gives her a look of warning, narrowing her brows. "Becky pulled me out of a downward spiral, Gretchen. She made me see that my life wasn't over just because my father was gone. _She saved my life_."

"Okay," concedes Gretchen with a heavy sigh. "But, I still think there's a traitor in your midst. _And_, that traitor knows about _me_."

"What do you mean?" questions Claire, her nose bunching up in that way that lets Gretchen know she had not made this connection herself yet.

"My _apartment_," reminds Gretchen. "It blew up! _Remember?_ And, I shouldn't have been given your case _in the first place_. I'm just a first year cop, forensics specialist or _not._ Someone was just using me to get closer to ..."

Suddenly, Gretchen stands, frantically feeling herself, as if looking for ticks. Claire stands as well in response, regarding her with fascination.

"What are you _doing_?" she asks Gretchen.

"Looking for implants," Gretchen explains, as if this should be obvious. "You know ... as in, the _gps_ kind of implants?"

Claire omits a small laugh and comes closer, carefully latching on to Gretchen's flailing arms. She forces them down slowly, saying, "quit fidgeting and let _me_ look. You look like a crazed monkey doing it like that."

As Claire's fingers part Gretchen's hair, she can feel her breath at her neck as she inspects her skin for suspected implants. It is warm, yet causes a chill to run up her back. She feels the gooseflesh rise on her skin and wonders if Claire notices.

"If they know about my ... _relationship_ to you, then they could be tracking me," Gretchen explains, suddenly feeling silly ... and _very_ uncomfortable.

"I think you're just being paranoid," Claire admits, "but ... I don't mind looking. Just in case."

"If you have a lab, we could do it in there," suggests Gretchen. "I mean, given certain equipment, I could determine for sure whether or not ..."

"We don't have _labs_," says Claire, lifting the back of her shirt up. "They're too expensive. We can barely afford cell phones."

Claire looks closely at her back. And, as her breath touches the skin there, Gretchen suddenly spins around. Claire takes a step back in surprise, but is smiling wickedly nonetheless, and suppressing a chuckle.

"Maybe this isn't a good idea," Gretchen says nervously, smoothing out the front of her blouse.

"Which part?" asks Claire, giving her a sideways smile. "The part where you thought the government had _implanted_ you, or the part where I got to look at your bare back? What's the matter? You ticklish?"

Gretchen starts to speak, but is interrupted by the door slamming open behind them. She and Claire both turn to look, and see the Haitian standing in the doorway, an expression of panic on his face. He is out of breath and sweating profusely.

"You must come with me ... NOW!" he manages to pant out.

Claire looks at Gretchen with wide eyes and shrugs, turning to follow him out the door.

"Wait ..." says Gretchen, grabbing on to her arm. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," says Claire. "But, when Rene says follow, you'd better follow."

She takes Gretchen's hand and pulls her forward, saying, "come on!"

The Haitian is already half-way down the hall, but is waiting for them, waving for them to hurry. Claire picks up speed, yanking Gretchen with her, and gaining on the Haitian named Rene in no time. They race down one hallway to the next, spinning around corners and slamming through doors, until finally spilling out into the outside world. They come to rest on a sidewalk, a block away from the building they just exited. All three are bent over, catching their breaths.

Gretchen looks up and the sun hits her eyes like a police searchlight, causing her pupils to retract. She slowly adjusts them, blinking profusely, and finally sees that they are standing in the middle of a _ghost town_. The building they had exited, looming large ahead of them, resembles an old hotel from the wild west on the outside.

Looking at it now, she cannot imagine anyone actually _living_ inside, and yet ... they do. They _are_. Just past the look of abandonment on the outside lives a small tribe of evolves, trying desperately to survive.

Claire looks up at Rene with concern. "What's going on? Why did you drag us out here?" she demands to know.

He is looking back at their building as if waiting for something. "Wait," he tells her softly. "Stand back."

Gretchen follows his stare just in time to see the building explode, blasting into a million pieces all at once. Claire lunges forward, screaming, "NO!" But, Rene grabs her around the waist and keeps her there, whispering in her ear.

"It's too late," he whispers. "Stop, Claire. There's nothing you can do. It's too late."

In a moment, Claire stops fighting and begins to cry, crumpling into Rene's arms like a rag-doll.

Gretchen steps closer to the two, but approaches cautiously.

"How did you know it was going to blow?" she asks the Haitian.

He looks up from consoling Claire and gives Gretchen a look of helplessness that she did not anticipate. "I saw it," he tells her, "the bomb. I saw something flash across the security cameras earlier, in the room next to you and Claire. I couldn't tell what it was, so I went to check it out. When I got there, I found a bomb ready to detonate. I had no time to warn the others."

"Why set off a bomb when you could just come here and capture everyone?" Gretchen wonders aloud.

Claire separates herself from Rene and looks at Gretchen with curiosity, her eyes still red and swollen, but the tears stopped, as if by her will alone. "You think the _traitor_ did this?" she assumes.

"Well ... yeah," Gretchen tells her, being careful not to mention Becky any further. "But ... like I said, why _kill_ so many people when you could have just rounded them up for the evolve army?"

"Maybe we are too powerful all together," Rene suggests. "Now, they have us scattered without protection. Now is when they will come for us."

"Now they have us _dead_!" exclaims Claire in disbelief. "Rene, Hiro is gone. Becky is ..."

She stops herself short, shaking her head to hold off further tears. "And we are like ducks on a pond out here!" she adds, pointing out the obvious.

As if in answer, Hiro appears suddenly next to them. He looks serious in demeanor, but not without hope. He reaches out both hands in invitation.

"Come," he tells them. "I fear the worst. We must leave quickly."

"But ... how did you ..." Gretchen is stammering as Claire and Rene gather around Hiro.

Claire reaches a hand out to Gretchen, a solitary tear running down one smooth cheek. "Take my hand, Gretch," she says. "Hurry. _Please._"

Gretchen slowly takes Claire's extended hand and closes her eyes, expecting just about _anything_ at this point, and hoping to God that Claire and her friends know what they are getting themselves _and her_ into.

*to be continued ...*


	7. Chapter 7

Five Years Later: Chapter Seven

Unable to stay in a hotel, or any place where Claire might be seen, Hiro has taken them all to an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. Looking around the place, Gretchen is fairly positive he has been here before. Though still bleak in appearance, lights have been strung up around the ceilings, and old sofas and chairs have been set out on the concrete floor, standing in isolation in one corner of the big and empty space.

In another corner, a make-shift kitchen has been assembled, complete with refrigerator and microwave. Hiro makes his way towards this area, leaving the other three behind.

Claire looks dazed and exhausted. She allows Rene to lead her to a sofa and sit her down, and he covers her shoulders with a quilt before taking a seat beside her.

"There's nothing you could have done, Claire," he tells her again. "You must know that."

Claire leans into him, and he reflexively puts an arm around her, holding her as a father would. Gretchen watches on from where she stands, uncertain what to do. Then, looking away for a moment, she sees Hiro smiling at her from the little kitchen and decides to leave Claire and the Haitian alone for the time being.

The last thing Claire needs right now is more questions. And, _questions_ is all Gretchen has to give.

Hiro gives her a small bow and a smile as she approaches. "I am so sorry for this inconvenience," he tells her, as if she's only been waiting in line at a drive-thru. "When we made the decision to extract you in New York, we never counted on another attack happening on our own home. We thought we were keeping you safe, and I sincerely apologize that we were unable to do so."

Gretchen smiles back, but she is tired too. The smile comes with a sigh, and is only a fraction of what it used to be.

"I'm safe, Hiro," Gretchen assures him. "I'm just ... a little confused. Where are we _now_, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh," says he, straightening his glasses. "Nebraska. No one will find us here, I promise you."

"How can you be so sure?" she asks.

He gives her a confident grin. "Because. We are in the past," he explains. "We are in the year 1954. This is my safe house. No one can find us here because they have not been born yet."

"You mean ... out there ..." says Gretchen, gesturing to the big steel doors on the other side of the room, "... it's 1954? Like ... for_ real_?"

"Yep," says he. "Would you like a soda, Gretchen? Or something to eat? I always keep the kitchen stocked in case of emergency."

"No thanks," she replies. "So, on a scale from 1 to 10, how big of an emergency would you_ rank this_? I mean, compared to other emergencies."

Hiro's face grows suddenly serious. "It is not good. We've lost many people today. People we cannot ever replace."

"What makes you so sure you lost them _all_?" asks Gretchen, looking back over at Claire and Rene on the sofa. "There could have been survivors. Becky ... she might have ... been just fine."

Hiro shakes his head sadly in response. "I'm afraid not. If they did survive, then surely they were captured afterwards. That's why I came to find Claire, after I blinked out of the building myself. We needed to get out before _they came in_."

"Blinked out?" asks Gretchen, blinking her own eyes rapidly in response.

"Oh, of course. You don't fully understand my abilities yet," he says. "When the blast happened, I instinctively used my abilities to leave the building immediately, just as I did when visiting you in the elevator. It happens rather quickly when faced with life or death, sometimes without me even thinking first."

"Like fight or flight," remarks Gretchen.

His smile brightens. "Yes," he tells her. "Yes, exactly."

"So ... Claire is worried that Becky may have been _captured_, not just killed?" Gretchen says. "I suppose either would be just as bad, from what I've heard."

Hiro looks over at Claire with sympathy in his eyes, then back at Gretchen. "It's not just Becky she's worried about," he explains, speaking softly. "It's her abilities. She's been working on expanding them ... has she told you?"

"You mean the whole healing fruit thing?" supposes Gretchen. "Yeah. I got a personal demonstration."

"If she had been given more time," he continues, still speaking in a hushed manner, "to expand it even more before this happened, then ... she may have been able to go in and save people. If Becky had been hurt inside ... Claire would have been able to heal her. But ..."

"She can only heal pears?" assumes Gretchen.

"For now," says Hiro with a smile. "But ... give her time. I believe she will be a great hero one day. Possibly the greatest."

"What makes you think that?" asks Gretchen.

Hiro shrugs. "Just a feeling."

Gretchen looks back at Claire again, still leaning against the Haitian in silent tears. It is almost unbearable to watch.

"So ... she feels _guilty_? Because she couldn't run in and heal them?" thinks Gretchen aloud. "But ... even if her abilities _had_ expanded that far, she couldn't have gone in there, Hiro. Surely you know that, or you would have gone in yourself."

He sighs. "No. She could never have gone back in that building. It was not safe. But ... try telling her that. She can be a bit stubborn, you know."

"Trust me, I _know_," says Gretchen.

"It will take time," Hiro says, "and ... _faith_ for her to heal."

"Faith?" replies Gretchen, turning to face him again. "Do evolves believe in God?"

Hiro laughs. "Some do, some don't," he answers. "But ... I wasn't talking about having faith in a God. I was talking about her having faith in _you_, Gretchen."

"In _me_? But, what can I possibly do to help someone who _can't be hurt_?" she questions.

"Oh, but she _can_ be hurt," he tells her. "Perhaps in a worse way than any of us. I think you already know that, from the look on your face. You know she's in unimaginable pain right now, and you want to help her. I don't have to have be a mind-reader to see that."

Gretchen exhales a long, deep breath and runs a hand through her hair. "Hiro, I really think I've only made things worse. I mean ... right before the explosion happened, I was accusing Becky of being a traitor."

His back stiffens at this, but he doesn't look all together surprised. He straightens his glasses again and says, "What made you think that?"

"Well, _someone's_ got to be a traitor," she tells him. "The government may have files, but ... they couldn't have known about my connection to Claire. Who else would have told them? The Haitian? Besides Becky, he's the only one who knew and lived long enough to talk about it."

Hiro rubs at his chin in thought. "Becky is a hard person to read. Claire is the only one who could ever really talk to her. She put up walls around the rest of us."

"So ... you don't think I'm totally off?"

"I'm not sure. We would need more to go on than that," Hiro explains.

"Well ... what about the bomb that just went off?" reminds Gretchen. "Who put it there? It had to have been someone on the inside, and ... the Haitian said he saw something flash in front of the security camera in that room, which is why he came down to look."

"Sounds like a speeder," suggests Hiro, who then adds, "I mean, someone with super speed. They tend to _flash_, as you said."

"_Or_ ... was it really a _flash_ he saw?" continues Gretchen. "Did you have any ... uh, speeders living there at the time?"

"No," says Hiro, his eyes wide with concern. "We _never_ did."

"So, maybe it wasn't a flash," she explains. "Maybe it was a door opening on it's own, or the _reflection_ of a door opening on it's own. The doors are steel. If one opened, it could easily cause a reflection to flash across the room. Could_ that_ have been what Rene saw?"

"Possibly," admits Hiro. "And, if so ... then ..."

"It could have been Becky in that room," Gretchen finishes for him. "When Claire showed up in my lab in New York, she appeared like that. The doors opened on their own, and ... POOF! There she was. Did Becky do _that_?"

Hiro nods. "Her own expansion of powers," he explains. "She can make other people invisible, as well as herself, by concentration. It's how Claire and Rene entered all those banks ... under the cloak of Becky's invisibility."

"Of course!" exclaims Gretchen, still trying to remain quiet, despite being excited about putting all the pieces together. "They enter unseen, Claire pulls out the gun, the Haitian wipes their memories, and then they leave the same way they came in: invisible!"

Again, Hiro nods. "All Claire's idea," he tells her with an apologetic smile. "But ... I don't know what we would have done without it."

Gretchen waves this off. "It doesn't matter. _Don't you see?_ Becky is the one who knew of my connection to Claire, she is the one who tried to kill me five years ago, and she is the only one who could have gotten into that room and planted a bomb. Hiro, Becky is your traitor! She's not _dead_ ... she's been working with them all along. Probably even before Sylar returned. Or, at least, right after. She's been using Claire this whole time!"

"Shh!" he demands. "Keep your voice down. This isn't the time."

"She's _killing herself_ over there," Gretchen points out, her heart aching for Claire as she says it. "Over guilt for not being able to save the very person who tried to _kill all of us! _ If now isn't the time, then when _is_?"

"When she's had time," Hiro explains. "She's in shock right now. She may even suspect that you are right about Becky. After all, Claire is no fool. She runs on emotions, but ... not for long. Remember that, if you are _right_ about Becky, then she is going to have a lot to figure out. They have been together for four years, Gretchen. That's a long time to be lied to."

Gretchen looks down at the floor with a sigh, and Hiro places a hand on her shoulder in comfort. "If you want to help her, then you must be strong for her," he whispers. "She will return the favor a million times over, I promise you. Just ... be patient."

Then, in a moment: "I know what we have to do," says a steely voice from behind them.

Hiro and Gretchen look up and see Claire and Rene standing near-by. Claire has her fists at her waist, and has erased all signs of crying from her face. Her chin is set and angled, determination edging her features.

"We have to find Peter," she tells them. "He's the only one who can help us now."

*to be continued ...*


	8. Chapter 8

*Some foul language will have to force this chapter into rated M. Sorry*

Five Years Later: Chapter Eight

"Finding Peter will not be easy," Rene reminds Claire, who is still standing with her defiant chin out, her chest heaving in and out with even but heavy breaths. Gretchen also notices that Claire's nostrils are flared. And, her green eyes are narrowed beneath her furrowed brow.

_Finding Peter may not be easy_, Gretchen thinks to herself as she watches Claire, _but she's not going to rest until we do_.

"You know where we have to start," Claire tells him. "It's the only way."

The Haitian shakes his head, obviously aware of what she's talking about, but dubious of it.

"No, Claire," he says. "We mustn't go to your grandmother. If we do, we will only be compromising her safety."

"Fuck her," Claire growls, giving him an almost murderous look in return. "She's the whole reason this mess _started!_ If she had not forced Matt Parkman to ..."

Stopping in mid-sentence, she shakes her head and says, "It doesn't matter. All that matters right now is finding out the truth ... and we'll never find that without Peter."

"The truth?" Gretchen asks, stepping forward. "What do you mean?"

Claire looks at her as if she'd almost forgotten she was there. "I mean, I want to know _everything_. Don't you? About this government project ... about the evolve army ... _everything!_ We've been living with our heads in the sand for five years ... hiding and isolating ourselves, and hoping it would all just go away. But, it's _not_ going to go away. They are hunting us _one by one_. Are we just supposed to sit back and take it? Wait for them to find us? Uh, uh. I don't think so. We are going to turn the tables on them and hunt them right back! We are going to dismantle their entire operation ... piece by piece! Until there isn't a trace of them left!"

Gretchen doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry. She's never seen Claire quite like this ... so fired up over something. On the one hand, it's hard to deny the fact that passion looks good on her, even an angry passion. Perhaps _especially_ an angry one ...

But, on the other hand ... it almost sounds as if Claire is ready to start a war. And, war usually means dead bodies. Gretchen doesn't really care for _that_ idea.

Neither do the others.

"Claire, we mustn't do anything rash," Rene warns. "We are weaker now than ever. We must proceed cautiously."

"Rene is right," Hiro agrees. "If you come after them now, you will be falling right into their trap. It's what they're counting on. You must see that, Claire."

"They don't know about Peter," she reminds them. "They think he's dead."

"How can you be so sure he _isn't_?" Rene asks her. "He hasn't contacted us in two years."

"He is our only hope," Claire asserts. "And my grandmother will know where to find him ... _if_ he's still alive."

"Your grandmother is in hiding," reminds Rene again. "What makes you think she would know where Peter is?"

"Because," says Claire, "Peter is more forgiving than I am. Even after all she's done, he would never turn his back on her. He would never stay away from her for long ... even if he wanted to."

"I can take you there," says Hiro, suddenly changing his mind. "But ... I cannot stay, Claire. You will have to fight this battle on your own. If you fail, someone must stay behind to pick up the pieces."

Claire nods in agreement. "If I fail," she says, "you may have to pick up _my_ pieces."

"I will do my best," promises Hiro.

Claire looks up at the Haitian with a silent plea in her eyes. "You with me on this?" she asks him.

After a sigh, Rene says, "Of course. If I cannot change your mind, then I have no other choice."

Claire nods and comes to stand next to Hiro, pulling Rene along with her. Gretchen watches on, waiting to be invited into the circle. But, Hiro only closes his eyes in preparation.

"Wait!" Gretchen cries out, just as Hiro is getting ready to do his thing and make them all disappear.

Hiro opens his eyes again and waits for her to speak.

"What about me?" she asks indignantly. "You're not just going to _leave_ me here? _Are you?_"

"You wouldn't be safe with us," Claire immediately tells her. "I don't even know what we'll be facing. I can't take a chance that something might happen to you."

"Screw that!" exclaims Gretchen, coming closer. "You're not going _without_ me, Claire. Not after all that's happened already."

Claire steps out of the circle and grabs Gretchen's arm with a hard yank. She pulls her away from the others, looking impatient and desperate.

"Do you think I _want_ to leave you here? I _don't_. But I can't take another loss today, Gretchen. I just _can't_. If I know that you are safe here ... waiting for me ... then it will be easier for me to do what I need to do."

"And, what is _that_ exactly?" questions Gretchen, just as impatient, and just as desperate. "What if you _don't_ come back? What if you get captured? Claire, I can't let that happen ... don't you get that? I'm a cop now! Let me _help_ you!"

"You're not a cop anymore, Gretchen," she reminds her. "That ended the minute your apartment exploded."

"Fine. So, _technically_ I'm not. But, I still have the skills, Claire! I'm not totally useless when it comes to things like this! And ... I ..." She trails off, unsure of whether or not to voice her next sentiments out loud.

Claire's expression changes from impatience to curiosity. "And you _what_?" she asks, still holding tight to Gretchen's arm.

Gretchen takes in a deep breath, deciding that she had better tell Claire _something_ of what she's feeling ... before she loses this argument, and never sees her alive again.

"And I ... _care_ about you," she finally says, locking eyes with Claire and holding her gaze. "If you leave me here with Hiro, I'll only _worry_ about you the whole time. I won't be able to sleep, or eat ... I might even forget to keep breathing! So ... you may as well take me with you because ... I'll be in danger _either way_."

"You're only exaggerating," Claire says, blushing a little and giving her a tired smile. "You'll be just fine here."

"How do you know for sure that I'm exaggerating?" Gretchen asks her. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, _Claire Bennet_. And, if you leave me here and end up dying, then you'll never know any of it! ... Don't you _want_ to know?"

The last question, Gretchen realizes, comes out sounding almost like a plea. She wishes at once that she could stuff that one back in, but ... it's too late.

Claire let's go of her arm slowly, but does not break their gaze. "You're not going to give up until I say yes ... are you?"

Gretchen folds her arms, trying to look just as stubborn as her counterpart. "Got _that_ right."

Claire considers it, then nods her head slowly with a deep breath. "Fine. But ... you've got to do everything as I say, got it? If I tell you to stay back or get out of the way, you'd better do it."

"Not a problem," Gretchen agrees.

"And, even if it looks like I might be in trouble, you can't come running to try and save me if I've told you to stay put! Got it?"

"What _kind_ of trouble?" asks Gretchen.

"_Gretchen!_" warns Claire, "I mean it! It doesn't _matter _what kind of trouble! You promise you'll listen to me, or there's no deal!"

"Fine," says Gretchen begrudgingly. "I will follow orders, _Sarge_. Does that make you feel better?"

Claire takes another deep breath. "Not really. But, I guess you're not really giving me a choice."

"Not really," agrees Gretchen.

"Okay, then," says Claire, taking her by the hand. "Let's not keep Hiro waiting."

* * *

Hiro drops them off, so to speak, in front of a retirement center in southern Florida. The temperature is scorching, and palm trees line the walk up to the center. Having gone in just one day from New York City, to a ghost town in the desert, to Nebraska in 1954, and now this ... Gretchen is starting to feel a little woozy in the stomach. Clearly, traveling with Hiro is just as bad as having jet-lag. If not worse.

"Please, be as careful as you can," Hiro says to them before taking off. "Coming here may endanger not just Angela, but all of us."

Claire nods. "We'll be careful, Hiro. I promise."

"I will be back to check on you," he assures them. "Until then ..."

He gives them one last smile, then blinks away, leaving Claire, Rene, and Gretchen to find Peter on their own.

"Stay here," Claire tells the Haitian. "Gretchen and I will go in alone."

"I will come if I sense any danger," he tells her.

She smiles and gives his arm an affectionate squeeze. "I know you will. Just ... be careful."

He nods solemnly and turns away, already watching out for danger.

Claire looks at Gretchen and raises her brows. "Ready to meet Grandma?" she asks.

Gretchen shrugs. "Ready or not," she replies.

Claire takes her hand, and they walk towards the center together. It is a long sidewalk, so Gretchen clears her throat and hesitantly begins asking more questions.

"So, um ... why did the Haitian say he had no choice when you asked him to come with you?" she says first.

"He promised my dad a long time ago that he would always keep me safe," Claire explains, still holding tight to her hand. "And he always does."

"Why?" Gretchen wonders aloud.

"Because ... he's one of the good guys," she replies simply.

"And your grandmother? Is she one of the _good guys_?" Gretchen continues.

Claire lets out a cynical laugh. "Depends on the day," she tells her. "My grandmother always _thinks_ she has good intentions, but ... she's too impulsive."

Gretchen cannot help smiling at this. "Hmm ... Sound like anyone else you know?"

Claire stops walking and looks up at her with exasperation. "Don't _start_ ... okay?"

"Okay," promises Gretchen, still suppressing a grin. "I'm _sorry_."

Claire begins walking again, pulling Gretchen right along with her.

"Look, let's just focus on what we came here for, and you can make fun of me all you want later, okay?" she tells Gretchen.

"I _said_ I was sorry," Gretchen reminds her as Claire is pushing open the front door to the retirement center.

Ignoring this for the moment, Claire smiles at the attendant behind the front desk and puts on her best _normal girl_ act.

"Hi," she greets the attendant. "I'm here from California to visit my grandmother. Could you tell me her room number please? Her name is Velonia Masey."

"Of course," replies the attendant, smiling right back at Claire. "Just let me check the computer ... one second ... yes, here it is. Ms. Masey is in room 204. Just let us know if you need anything."

"Thank you so much," answers Claire. "And, have a nice day."

"Same to you," says the attendant.

As they turn around to find room 204, Gretchen leans in Claire's ear and says, "Velonia? Are you _serious_?"

"What alias would you expect a woman over fifty to go by?" hisses Claire in response. "_Britney?_"

Gretchen shrugs and continues to follow, until finally they find room 204, at the end of a hallway on the far side of the building. Claire puts her hand on the door-handle, but then freezes there.

"What's the matter?" asks Gretchen, seeing her hesitation.

"I haven't spoken to her since my father died," Claire explains, looking up at Gretchen with grief in her eyes. "And, the last time we talked, I was pretty nasty."

"You were nasty to your grandma?" replies Gretchen.

"Most people don't have grandmas like mine," says Claire with all seriousness.

"I'm sure she'll understand," Gretchen tells her. "I mean, she loves you ... right?"

Claire smiles up at Gretchen in the way people smile when they know someone will never understand what they are talking about. Like the way parents smile at their children when they ask them why the sky is blue.

"Angela Petrelli loves in her own kind of way," Claire finally says. "But ... it doesn't always feel like love when you're standing on the other side of it."

And, with that, Claire opens the door and walks in, with her eyes closed tight and her breath held, as if she is getting ready to rip a band-aid off.

Angela Petrelli, who is sitting at a desk with a book and a cup of coffee, looks up at Claire and smiles broadly.

Claire finally opens her eyes and takes a deep breath in preparation. "Hello, grandmother," she says, her expression blank and emotionless.

"Well, Claire," breathes out Angela, standing to greet her. "My goodness. Here I knew you were coming today ... and I'm _still_ surprised to see you."

"What do you mean you _knew_ I was coming today?" Claire immediately asks, looking concerned. "What did you _see_?"

Gretchen, who is trying desperately to follow the conversation despite her lack of understanding, comes closer to Claire. She stands directly behind her, watching Angela closely from behind.

"I see," says Angela, looking slightly disappointed. "No time for social pleasantries? Just straight to business, is it?"

"We have a traitor in our community," Claire tells her, surprising Gretchen by bringing this theory up at all. "And I want to know who it is."

"A traitor you say?" replies Angela, taking a seat on the end of her bed. "Well, I can't speak to _that_, necessarily, but I did know you were coming. For Peter ... am I right?

"Do you know where he is?" Claire demands to know.

"I do," answers Angela. "However, Peter does not wish to be found. Particularly by you, dear."

Claire looks taken aback by this news. "Why?" she asks.

"You should really go back to Hiro," Angela suggests. "This is no place for you."

"What do you mean?" questions Claire. "You mean back to 1954?"

"Hiro is a smart man, Claire," says Angela. "The past is a wonderful place to hide. And _live_, if you must."

"What is all this?" Claire questions. "Are you trying to protect _me_? Or _Peter_?"

"Both of you, of course," she replies. "You are the only family I have left, Claire."

"Well, I'm_ not _going back to 1954, so you can forget about it."

"Would that have anything to do with the lovely woman standing over your shoulder?" asks her grandmother, a knowing smile crossing her face. "Were you going to introduce us, Claire? Or just allow us to stare at each other wonderingly?"

Claire looks over her shoulder briefly and says sarcastically, "Oh ... I'm sorry. Where are my manners? Gretch, Angela. Angela, Gretch. Now, what are you trying to _protect_ me from? The government? If you know anything about this force that's after us, you should tell me ... NOW."

Angela shakes her head with a smile, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. "Oh, my dear Claire. You are so impetuous. Running around trying to find Peter when you should be staying put."

"I can't afford to _stay put_, Angela. Someone has to stop them, before they kill or capture us all!"

"And that's up to _you_?" asks Angela. "Why? Because without the answers you seek your little _love affair_ might get stalled?"

"_Excuse me?_" says Claire, clearly offended by this line of questioning.

"Do not bullshit a bullshitter, kid," warns her grandmother. "I saw in my visions your reasons for coming here. You want to know if _Becky_ is your traitor. If she is, then ... the door is open for Gretchen to come inside, is it not?"

Without hesitation, Claire pulls her hand back and slaps Angela hard across one cheek, leaving a mark. Angela does not look at all surprised.

"How dare you!" cries out Claire in indignation. "I am trying to save _lives_ here! Your life, for one ... although I'm not really sure it's _worth_ protecting."

"We are _all _lost causes this time, dear," Angela says simply. "The best thing for you to do would be to go back to Hiro. Take Gretchen with you. Live a happy life. But don't stay here looking for Peter. It will only bring you trouble."

"Cut the crap, old woman," says Claire with a growl, obviously pushed just a little too far. "Tell me where I can find Peter, or I'll find another way."

Angela takes a deep breath and stands again, giving Claire a tired smile. "I thought you might say that," she says with disappointment.

Her grandmother goes to the desk and gets out a writing tablet and pen. "I can get a message to Peter," she explains. "We have a system. But, Claire ..." She sits the tablet and pen down and gives her granddaughter a stern look. "Whatever you do, please promise me that you will _listen_ to Peter. Do as he tells you ... _please_. Will you promise me that?"

Claire nods slowly, and Gretchen is taken back to the conversation they had themselves just minutes earlier, when Gretchen promised to listen to Claire and do as _she_ said. Clearly, the chain of command was growing.

"I will tell him a place and a time to meet you, and he will come as quickly as he can," Angela explains, writing a note out on the tablet. "But, _please_ ... be careful. I don't know _much_ about this government force we are hiding from, but I know they have others like us ... with all kinds of abilities. Any one of them could find out about your meeting with Peter, which is precisely why you shouldn't be going."

"I have Rene with me," Claire tells her. "He can keep the ones with abilities from using their powers."

Angela looks past her to Gretchen. "Yes, but ... as for your friend here ... what will be protecting _her_? After all, unless you've met another self-healer, I'm assuming she is _not_ impervious to bullets?"

Claire smiles up at Gretchen and takes her hand, squeezing it. "She'll be fine. She's promised to listen to me."

"Mmm, hmm," says her grandmother with a sly smile. "You mean, the way you listen to me?"

Claire rolls her eyes. "When can I meet Peter?"

"Today," says Angela. "Can you rent a car? Have you any cash, dear?"

"Uh ... no."

Angela reaches inside her desk and pulls out a set of keys, throwing them to Claire. "You can take my car. After all ... I'm not going anywhere. Am I?"

"Thanks," says Claire, turning to leave.

"Oh, and, Claire?" says Angela, as she and Gretchen are just about to walk out the door.

Claire turns back around, sighing impatiently.

"When you succeed ... _if_ you succeed ... please don't be a stranger," says her grandmother, with a look of loneliness on her face. "I've missed you. You're the only granddaughter I have, you know."

"I know," replies Claire. "I will try. I promise."

"I'm going to keep you to that," says Angela with a smile.

Claire smiles back and turns around again, anxious to find her uncle and end this ordeal ... once and for all.

*to be continued ...*


	9. Chapter 9

Five Years Later: Chapter Nine

Claire unlocks the door to her grandmother's car with the remote and hurries ahead of Gretchen and Rene. She opens the passenger side door and holds it for Gretchen, gesturing for her to get in with an impatient smile. Gretchen quickens her step and jumps in, Claire shutting the door behind her, and the Haitian takes the back seat without a word.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive?" asks Gretchen, once Claire is in the car.

"I'm fine," says Claire, buckling her seat belt.

"Are you sure?" she says again. "I mean ... you _have_ been through a lot today. Maybe you should ..."

Claire starts up the engine and takes the piece of paper her grandmother gave her out of her breast pocket, handing it to Gretchen with a reassuring smile. "Just point me in the right direction," she tells her. "Let me worry about the rest."

Like a nascar driver, Claire pulls the long Oldsmobile out of the parking lot with a squeal of the tires and says, "So, where are we going?"

Gretchen laughs nervously. "You know ... maybe you should slow down," she suggests. "After all ... we are kind of trying to _hide_ from the authorities ... _right?_"

Claire rolls her eyes with a sigh, but slows down as requested nonetheless. "Fine," she says, and then asks again, "_Where are we going_?"

Gretchen unfolds the piece of paper and reads, "Everglades National Park ... Main Park Road ... mile-marker 72."

"Great," says Claire. "We're going to the swamp."

"By the time we get there, it will be dark," Gretchen adds helpfully. "It's a good place to meet, Claire. No one else will be around for miles."

"We hope," reminds Claire.

"Yeah ... I was thinking about what your grandmother said," replies Gretchen, "about the government having their own evolves ... They also have their own _agents_, you know. With _guns_."

Claire smiles, unsurprised, but keeps her eyes on the road. "Are you starting to get scared now? Having second thoughts?"

"No, it's just ... what's your _plan_?"

"To find Peter. I thought we'd covered this already."

"Well, yeah, but ... what if someone _else _is waiting for us?" asks Gretchen. "Then what?"

"Then, we'll have to count on _Peter_ to get us out of it," Claire explains, seemingly unworried. "Why do you think I'm trying so hard to _find_ _him_ in the first place?"

"I'm not sure, actually," admits Gretchen. "You haven't really told me what his ability is yet."

"I didn't?" says Claire, glancing over at her briefly in surprise. "Geez, Gretch. I'm sorry. I guess with everything that's been going on ... I've probably forgotten to tell you a lot of things."

"It's ... okay," promises Gretchen, finally relaxing as the steady rhythm of the car begins to soothe her nerves. "I know it's been ... well, it's been the worst day of _my_ life, so I can only imagine ..."

"The _worst_ day? Really?" says Claire, sounding a little disappointed and a little guilty at the same time. "Wow. I am like the _crappiest_ friend in the world ... if you can even still count me as your friend."

"Oh, gosh ... Claire, that's not what I ..."

"No, it's okay," assures Claire. "I completely understand. I mean, I'm _used_ to this madness. Well ... maybe not on _this_ level, but ... there's always some kind of craziness going on in my life. You, on the other hand ... I haven't even stopped to _consider_ what this day's been like for _you_. You must want to run away screaming from me by this point."

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but ... where else are you gonna go?" asks Claire, glancing over at her again. "I mean, because of your connection to me five years ago, your apartment's been blown up, you've lost your job, and you're probably even wanted by the government. I mean ... could I ruin your life _anymore?"_

"You haven't _ruined my life_, Claire ..."

Ignoring this, Claire continues, saying, "And, to top it all off, I've been nothing but a bitch since the explosion ... I wouldn't blame you if you _hated_ me. After all, if you hadn't met me five years ago in the first place ..."

"God, Claire! Will you shut up!" Gretchen suddenly exclaims, interrupting her. "I'm not sorry we met five years ago, _okay?_ I'm sorry I_ left_ you!"

Claire takes a deep breath and checks the rear-view mirror. The Haitian has fallen asleep, his head resting against the window.

"Gretch," she says softly, "I ..."

"No," says Gretchen, turning in her seat to face her. "Let me talk for once, okay? I've been trying to say this since we were trapped in the elevator this morning ... Claire, my whole life, I've been fascinated and scared of things at the same time. You know, like with snakes? And roller-coasters? I wanted to find out more about them, but, at the same time, I was always scared to death of them. When I met you in college, I felt kind of the same way. I was so ... _enraptured_ with you. With your courage and your _fearlessness_. And, of course, that little thing you could do with a knife. Cutting yourself and then ... watching it _heal_ again. I mean, what girl could resist _that_?"

"Are you serious right now?" questions Claire on that last comment.

"Actually, _yes_," admits Gretchen. "Except ... it scared me a little too. And, _at the time_, with Becky trying to _kill _me and all ... Well, I was just too immature to deal with all that. I was barely out of the closet myself. It was just too much for me to handle."

"Gretchen, you don't owe me any explanations," Claire tells her. "I was never angry at you for leaving. I never blamed you."

"But, I _do_ owe you an explanation," Gretchen replies earnestly. "Because ... I'm starting to realize now how _wrong_ I was. I should have stayed, Claire. I should have ... been _stronger_ for you."

"Honestly, Gretch," says Claire. "It's not your fault. It's totally the _opposite_ of your fault."

"Claire ... when you came to my lab that night ..._ last_ night, actually ... I know you probably thought that I was scared to death of you. And, I_ was_ ... a little. But ... I was also exhilarated. Actually, to be honest ... I was _more_ than exhilarated. I was happier than I'd been in a very long time. It was like I'd been running on neutral for five years, and then, suddenly, I looked into your eyes again and ..."

"You were in _top gear_?" guesses Claire.

"You felt it too ... right?" asks Gretchen cautiously.

"Maybe now isn't the best time to talk about this," suggests Claire carefully. "After all, we are kind of in the middle of an apocalyptic situation."

"Is there a _better_ time to talk about this?" questions Gretchen. "I mean, what if I ... what if you ..."

"Nothing's going to happen," promises Claire.

"But ... what if it _does_? Claire, I really don't want to leave this world not knowing how you_ feel _about me."

Claire takes a deep breath. "A lot has happened today. I don't even know if Becky is alive or ..."

"It's _okay_ if you're still in love with Becky," says Gretchen honestly. "I get that. I'm not asking you to cheat on her. I'm just asking you to _tell me how you feel_."

"That part is easy," says Claire softly. "That part has _always_ been easy. But ... if you are right about Becky ... if she _is_ the traitor ... then, I have more to worry about than if I'm still _in love with her_ or not. If you're _right_ about her, then I've been a fool for five years, Gretchen. A fool that certainly does _not _deserve someone like you."

"Seriously? Wow. I never took you to be a coward before," says Gretchen.

"_What?_ I am _not_ being a coward. That's _not_ what this is about."

"Isn't it?" asks Gretchen. "Because, it _sounds_ like you are scared to _trust_ me."

"Why would you think that?" asks Claire, wrinkling her nose. "If I didn't trust you, you wouldn't _be here_ right now."

"I'm not talking about trusting me with your _life_, Claire," explains Gretchen. "I'm talking about trusting me with your _heart_."

Claire sits silent for a moment, staring at the road with cold, blank eyes. "My heart?" she finally says, breaking the quiet, her voice deep and dark. "I don't even know what's in my heart anymore, Gretchen. Right now, I can really only afford to listen with my head."

"Bullshit," replies Gretchen immediately. "You haven't been listening with your head all day! If you had, we would still be in 1954 with Hiro!"

"Hiding is not an option," says Claire, as if reading from a prepared script. "I'm only doing what needs to be done. I'm only doing what's _necessary_."

"You are trying to save the people you _love_," points out Gretchen, becoming tired with this routine. "If that's not listening to your heart, then what _is_?"

"I can't deal with my _feelings for you_ right now, okay?" exclaims Claire, finally becoming animated. "I just ... _can't_."

Gretchen turns back in her seat, facing forward again, and sinking into the leather with a sigh. She folds her arms and narrows her eyes, her right knee bouncing rapidly up and down as she thinks.

"Okay ..." she finally says, turning back around as if an idea has just hit her. "What did you mean when you said: _that part is easy; that part has always been easy_?"

"Huh?"

"When I asked you to tell me how you felt, you said: _that part is easy; that part has always been easy._"

"_Gretchen_ ..." says Claire, squeezing her eyes shut for just a moment.

"If it's so _easy_, then ... why can't you just tell me?" Gretchen pleads.

"I didn't mean it was easy to_ tell_ you," she clarifies with a nervous laugh. "I just meant ..."

"What?" questions Gretchen, trying desperately to search Claire's face for clues. "You just meant what? _Please_, tell me. They're just _words_, Claire. They aren't nearly as dangerous as the things you are _used_ to dealing with."

"Really?" replies Claire. "Are you sure about that? What happens if I tell you how I'm feeling and it only makes you feel _worse_? What if I tell you, and it only makes things _harder_ for you ... or for _me_?"

Gretchen pauses, not sure exactly what to infer from this. "You couldn't possibly make me feel any worse," she finally answers, feeling confident that this is the truth. "Claire, I'm kind of ... you know ... _putting myself out there right now._ And you're just leaving me hanging without a net. Whatever it is you're feeling, good or bad ... it's better than not knowing _at all_."

"If I tell you," says Claire, taking a deep breath, "then ... there's no taking it back. And ... I don't know if I can handle that right now. You think now is a good time to pour out our feelings, because we might be facing death ..." she lets out a small disbelieving laugh and shakes her head. "... But, it couldn't be _worse_ timing for me. I'm already _worried_ about you, Gretch. I already_ know_ how much I could lose focus if you end up in danger. How much worse do you think that's going to be if I ..."

"If you _what?_"

After another deep breath, Claire suddenly pulls the car onto the shoulder of the road and puts it in park. She checks the backseat, and Rene is still sound asleep.

"If I tell you how _easy_ it is ... to fall in love with you," says Claire finally, looking at Gretchen with apprehension and fear, "If I tell you that I have never stopped thinking about you; never stopped wondering about you; never stopped picturing our kiss over and over again _for five long years_ ..."

She reaches out unexpectedly and takes Gretchen's hand in her own, the look in her eyes warming now; the apprehension melting. "Gretchen," she says, "If I tell you that after I saw you in your lab last night, all I wanted to do was run home and end things with Becky immediately, _whether I love her or not_; that it has been _killing me all day_ to push my feelings for you down ... Could you tell me that it wouldn't make things harder for you if something happens to me tonight? Can you honestly _tell me that_?"

Gretchen, who has been listening intently all along, swallows hard and breathes out, "I think it's a little late for that, Claire. I mean ... after what you just said ..."

Not allowing her to finish, Claire rips her seat belt off and lurches forward, enveloping Gretchen in a fiery kiss that pushes her back against the door and leaves her breathless. It is electric, and makes time stand still in an instant. It is as if Claire has been saving this kiss for five years; as if all the passion they have missed out on together has been stored up for this very moment ... and it leaves Gretchen worrying, just for a second, if perhaps these feelings might just be _dangerous_ after all.

Because, from the moment this kiss was initiated, Gretchen knew Claire was right. _There is no taking this back_. Whatever happens from this point forward, Gretchen knows she will die if she loses Claire again. Five years was _nothing_. What if she loses her _forever_?

Interrupting this thought, _and_ their salacious kiss, the Haitian clears his throat loudly from the backseat. Claire pops up immediately, trying to look inconspicuous, but she is blushing badly.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," he says, giving Claire a sly smile. "But, it would have been indecent _not_ to."

"No, it's ... okay," says Claire, straightening her wrinkled blouse. "I'm sorry we woke you . How long have you ..."

He suppresses a laugh. "Not long. I just woke up a moment ago. But, we really must keep going, Claire ... we won't want to keep Peter waiting."

Claire turns around to face the wheel, still blushing a little. "Right," she says, trying to regain her former focus and composure.

She puts the car back in drive and pulls it onto the freeway, glancing over to give Gretchen a shy smile. Gretchen smiles back. Neither of them needs to say a word anymore. The connection between them now is almost telepathic.

And, it only took one kiss.

Safely in her lane of traffic, Claire takes Gretchen's hand and squeezes it. "Wanna turn on the radio?" she asks.

"Sure ... why not?" says Gretchen, who reaches with her free hand to turn the knob.

She turns the radio on and this song is playing:

AGAIN (by Janet Jackson)

I heard from a friend today

And she said you were in town

Suddenly the memories came back to me in my

Mind

[CHORUS]

How can I be strong I've asked myself

Time and time I've said

That I'll never fall in love with you again

A wounded heart you gave

My soul you took away

Good intentions you had many

I know you did

I come from a place that hurts

And God knows how I've cried

And I never want to return

never fall again

Making love to you

Oh it felt so good and

Oh so right

[CHORUS]

So here we are alone again'

Didn't think it'd come to this

And to know it all began

With just a little kiss

I've come too close to happiness

To have it swept away

Don't think I can take the pain

No never fall again

Kinda late in the game and my heart is in

Your hands

Don't you stand there and then

Tell me you love

Me then leave again

Cause I'm falling in love with

You again

Hold me

Hold me

Don't ever let me go

Say it just one time

Say you love me

God knows I do

Love you

Again

Claire looks over at her and laughs. The laugh starts small and then grows, intensifying as Gretchen joins in.

And the two of them continue to laugh, still holding tight to each other's hands, as Claire turns the Oldsmobile onto Main Park Road ... heading straight for certain disaster.

*to be continued ...*


	10. Chapter 10

Five Years Later: Chapter Ten

With each mile-marker they pass on Main Park Road, the atmosphere within the Oldsmobile matches the setting of the sun outside, growing darker and more quiet. At mile-marker 62, 10 miles from their objective, Claire lets go of her hand and grips the steering wheel tighter. At mile-marker 70, she shuts the radio off and takes a deep breath, her back stiffening.

"I don't have a good feeling about this," says the Haitian from the backseat.

"_Not helping_, Rene," exhales Claire, her knuckles now white on the steering wheel.

"I think we should turn back and wait for Hiro," he continues, sounding ominous.

Gretchen looks at Claire with wide eyes, and Claire gives her a hopeful smile in return. She begins to slow the car down as they approach the next mile-marker, and says, as if speaking only to Gretchen, "If I don't do this _now_, I don't know what might happen to the rest of my kind."

Gretchen nods apprehensively and replies, "I _know_ why you have to do this. It's okay, Claire. I'm not afraid."

"Peter can help us," Claire says, for about the thousandth time, as if she's trying to convince herself. "If he can't ... I don't know who will."

Gretchen looks ahead, knowing that mile-marker 72 should be coming up any minute. And, as she does, she notices car lights up ahead in the distance.

"Do you think that's Peter?" she asks Claire.

Claire slows down even more, coming to a slow crawl. The headlights ahead of them are not moving. The car is standing still in the road, it's brights shining hard against the windshield of the Oldsmobile as they come closer.

"Peter would not do this," warns the Haitian. "He would not advertise himself in this way."

Claire stops the car just yards away from the headlights of the car in front of them. Gretchen squints against the glare and sees that the other car is actually a Hummer, sitting smack in the middle of the road, as if unafraid of oncoming traffic.

"This is _not_ Peter," Rene says again, shaking Claire by the shoulder. "You must turn around, Claire! _Now!_"

Claire hesitates, also squinting against the glare. Gretchen looks at her and sees the curiosity burning in her green eyes. _She wants to get out of the car_, Gretchen realizes with terror. _She wants to know who this is._

"Claire, no," she breathes out, clutching her arm. "Listen to the Haitian, _please_. This isn't worth it. Turn the car around."

Claire looks at her, still considering it, and says to Rene, "You can stop their powers ... right? Just ... stay in the car. Both of you. I can handle this. I promise."

Having made up her mind, Claire unfastens her seatbelt and prepares to exit the car, her hand on the door handle.

"Wait, no ... stop!" cries out Gretchen, grabbing tight to her arm as Claire attempts to pull it away. She can feel the muscles of Claire's arm flex beneath her fingers and closes her eyes in panic, fearful that she may never feel anything of Claire again if she steps foot outside of the car.

"I know how badly you want to know if Becky is in that car right now," Gretchen tells her, without opening her eyes. "I know it's killing you ... wondering if she's sitting here ... waiting for you. I _get_ that, okay? But ... it's not worth losing what we _just_ found."

"Gretchen," Claire says with a tired laugh. "Open your eyes."

Gretchen finally opens her eyes, and sees Claire smiling back at her with reassurance.

"I'm not doing this because of Becky, okay?" Claire promises. "I'm doing this to find Peter. He's here, Gretchen ... _somewhere_. And, trust me ... Becky does not want to mess with my uncle."

Gretchen lets go of her arm, a silent plea still in her eyes, and Claire exits the Oldsmobile, shutting the door behind her.

Claire walks confidently towards the hummer, the look of a warrior in her eyes. As she does so, both doors to the hummer open, and two people exit the front seat. Detective Adams, Gretchen's old partner, shuts the driver's side door behind him as Becky is stepping out of the passenger seat. She walks towards Claire slowly, sashaying like a drag queen, a cat-like smile stretched thin across her lips.

"Well, I'm guessing from the look on your face that you've finally figured things out, baby," she says, giving Claire a fake pout. "That's too bad. It's going to make things _so_ much tougher for you now ... you have no idea."

Detective Adams comes to stand next to Becky protectively, crossing his arms across his chest like a muscle-bound thug.

"Don't you_ ever_ call me _baby_ again, you sick, twisted **bitch**," Claire growls, stepping closer. "I could snap your neck like a twig without your powers, and _you know it_."

Becky laughs, clapping her hands together in demented delight. "Yes, but ... I'm afraid there's something you _aren't_ aware of, dear. You see, Dick here is not only a detective ... he's also really good with bombs. Show her, Dick."

Dick raises his arm, a detonation device in his fist, his thumb precariously held over it's red trigger. Claire spins around in terror, in just enough time to see Gretchen look at her through the windshield before the bomb goes off, a question on her face.

Claire screams "NO!" and lunges towards the burning wreck, but, for the second time today, someone grabs her from behind and keeps her in place. It's Becky. And, she is laughing in Claire's ear as she madly cries out for Gretchen.

"Don't worry, baby," Becky whispers in a hiss. "I'll make sure they don't treat you _too_ bad. After all, I wouldn't want anything to happen to that beautiful fucking face of yours."

Claire struggles wildly against her, and is just about to break free when ...

WHOOSH!

A charge of lightening comes soaring through the air and hits detective Adams right in the chest, knocking him immediately unconscious. Shocked, Becky lets Claire free and backs away, her eyes wide with fright. Claire looks away from her, up towards the sky, and sees a form flying towards them at rapid speed. No ... she sees _two_ forms ... flying side by side, Peter's image becoming clearer as they get nearer to the ground.

Behind her, she hears tires squeal, and turns just in time to see the hummer doing a U-turn in the road. Becky is behind the wheel, turning it as quickly as she can.

Peter and his companion, a tall and striking-looking blonde, land softly just behind her. Peter is so close that his breath is in her ear.

"Should I follow her?" he asks Claire, watching the hummer pull away with his typical guard-dog expression.

Claire turns to face him, then immediately rushes _past_ him, running frantically for the burning Oldsmobile. She opens the passenger side door, the door handle singeing the flesh of her fingers as she does so, and catches Gretchen in her arms as she falls out. Gretchen is badly burned; almost unrecognizable, but barely breathing. Her eyes search out Claire and lock onto her, and she tries to speak ... her charred lips spitting out nothing but blood and gasps of air.

Peter and his friend have come to stand behind them, Peter kneeling just over her shoulder. She holds tight to Gretchen and begins to cry, saying, "Oh, Peter. This is all _my_ fault. What have I done? Gretchen ... _Jesus_ ... what have I _done?_"

"It's okay, Claire," soothes Peter. "You can heal her. Just try. I know you can do it."

"But ... I _can't_," insists Claire, turning her head to look at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I can't even heal_ rabbits_. I've _tried!_ Don't you think I've _tried?_"

Peter smiles reassuringly. "That was _different_," he promises her. "You didn't care as much about the rabbits as you care about her. You have to want it more than anything, Claire. Besides ... what have you got to lose? Just try it."

Claire looks back down at Gretchen, whose eyes are still searching her own with desperation and panic. Gretchen is fighting for breath, choking on her own blood.

"Just try, Claire," Peter urges again, his voice soft and gentle. "Put your hands on her ... close your eyes ... concentrate."

Without further hesitation, Claire follows his instructions. She closes her eyes and thinks of the kiss she and Gretchen had just shared, only moments earlier. She focuses on the warmth she felt from it; the security it gave her.

And, desperately, she tries with all her might to give that security back to her ...

Her eyes still closed, she hears Gretchen continue to choke, then to cough, and then ...

"Wha ... What just happened, Claire?" she hears Gretchen say, her voice clear and strong, though _thoroughly_ confused.

Claire opens her eyes and looks down at Gretchen. Her skin is perfect, pale and soft and pink, just as it should be. And the rest of her looks perfect too. Claire hugs her tight to her chest and kisses her forehead softly, over and over again, delighting in the feel of her radiant flesh, warm and smooth beneath her lips.

"I thought I'd lost you," Claire tells her, tears still dripping from her flushed cheeks. "I am so sorry, Gretchen. I never meant for this to happen. I ..."

"You _healed_ me ... didn't you?" asks Gretchen, her eyes wide with wonder.

Claire helps her sit up, saying, "Did you ... _feel_ that?"

"Well ... yeah," Gretchen replies, seeing the panic in her eyes. "But, it's _okay_, Claire. _I'm okay. _You saved me. I was _dying_, Claire! And ... _you brought me back to life!_"

"I almost got you _killed_," Claire stresses.

Gretchen takes her hand and squeezes it, locking eyes with her. "I came on my _own ... _ because I _love_ you, Claire. And, I am never going anywhere _without_ you again. Understand? You are _worth it_ to me. Get it? You are worth _everything._"

Claire's green eyes melt under Gretchen's passionate gaze, and she opens her mouth to reply, but is interrupted by the sounds of coughing from a cluster of bushes nearby.

Peter turns and fishes through the bushes as the rest of them look on, and finds Rene struggling to stand in the thick of them. Peter reaches out a hand and pulls the Haitian out, catching onto Rene's arm as he wobbles forward. He is limping, and is badly bruised and scraped, but otherwise unharmed.

"I was thrown from the car during the blast," he tells them. Then, he sees Gretchen standing up in front of him, not a scratch on her, and adds with sudden amazement, "I see I was not the only lucky one. Am I to presume this means Claire has further expanded upon her powers?"

Peter nods, also looking amazed, even though he had seemed so confident just moments earlier. "Yep," he replies, giving Claire a proud smile. "Fully charged from the look of things."

"We should not hang around here for too long," Rene warns at once, always on the look-out for danger. "Becky could _return_ ... with reinforcements this time."

"I agree," says Peter with a grin. "Shall we?"

"Shall we _what_?" asks Gretchen, looking back at the burned out Oldsmobile, then back at the empty road.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Peter replies, taking his female friend by the hand, and presenting her to the group. "None of you have met Stephanie. Stephanie is a flyer I met two years ago. She can take Rene with her, and I can take you two girls with me. We've got a little place in Havana, and ..."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," says Claire, shaking her head in confusion while stepping forward. "We've been trying to contact you for _over _two years ... and now, you show up with this ... _chick_ we don't know, and you tell us you've been shacking up in _Havana_ the whole time?"

Peter shuffles his feet nervously, giving her an apologetic smile. His grin is crooked, and it reminds Gretchen of someone. Someone she ran into once, not very long ago.

"Well," he says, "it's not exactly like _that_. It's ... _complicated_. And, I'll tell you all about it in Havana ... when we're _safe_. For now, could you just ... you know, _trust me?_ Come on, Claire. Rene's right ... we shouldn't hang around here."

He reaches out a hand in a plea. Claire hesitates, giving him a dissatisfied look, but then comes to him, gesturing for Gretchen to do the same.

"Come on," she tells her, waving her over. "We may as well do what he says ..."

Gretchen follows her lead and grabs hold of Peter on the other side, and Claire looks up at her uncle with a mischievous grin. "After all," she continues, "... he's just as stubborn as _I_ am."

Peter smiles back with a small laugh, and they take off into the stars, Gretchen looking down at the ground below with fright and excitement.

Beneath them, she sees Rene grab onto Stephanie's waist. The two soar up next to them, and Stephanie gives Gretchen a warm smile before racing ahead, Peter climbing with increasing speed to try and keep up.

*to be continued ...*


	11. Chapter 11

*author's note: _There is a lot of info to take in during this chapter, but I am headed for the finish line. The next chapter will be the second to last, then I will end this one and start a sequel. I'm thinking of calling the sequel Six Years Later. What do you think I should call it?_*

Five Years Later: Chapter Eleven

By the time they touch down in Havana, Cuba, it is nearly midnight. Peter and Stephanie lead them through the crowd of locals on the street who are busy enjoying their nightlife, laughing and drinking outside of the clubs and bars. From within the ramshackle buildings, music plays all around them. The rhythmic beat is intoxicating, and Gretchen and Claire cannot help but smile at one another like giddy school girls, even as the whole world seems to be crashing in around them.

As the crowd thins, Peter leads them away from the hustle and bustle of this small ghetto section of Havana and towards the beach. Here they are alone, and Gretchen takes Claire's hand as they walk side by side.

"Our place is just around this bend," explains Peter. "It's not much, but ... it's private."

He trudges ahead, Stephanie hurrying to catch up, and the Haitian not far behind them. Claire takes her time, however, swinging arms with Gretchen happily, and omitting a pleasant sigh. The moon is full tonight, and it's reflection sparkles across the waves like pixie-dust. Looking at it now, it is very hard to imagine that they just narrowly escaped a life or death situation. Life suddenly seems so full of possibility now. Could it be too much to hope for ... that danger might just leave her alone ... _forever?_

"Peter hasn't said much," Gretchen finally says, breaking the silence. "Do you think he's _angry_ you asked him to meet you?"

Claire rolls her eyes, letting out a dismissive laugh. "Don't worry about Pete," she promises. "He's just naturally high-strung."

"Uh, huh," nods Gretchen, still feeling unsure.

"Come on!" exclaims Claire with a giggle, letting go of her hand. "I'll race you!"

Claire runs ahead, still giggling, but Gretchen hesitates, taking a deep breath.

Noticing her absence, Claire stops and looks back. "Come on, slow poke!" she yells back with a smile. "First one to Peter's house gets a prize!"

Gretchen laughs, and suddenly feels all the weight of the day slip from her shoulders. "What kind of _prize_?" she calls back to Claire.

Claire gives her a lascivious grin, raising one eyebrow suggestively. "You'll have to catch me to find out!" she tells her.

Claire takes off again in another flurry of giggles, and Gretchen finally runs after her, intent on at least finding out what she _would_ have won ... if there were actually a chance in hell that she could beat Claire in a foot race.

Coming around the bend that Peter described, Claire slows down and looks up in awe. In front of her is a seaside cliff, jutting up seemingly out of nowhere, and Peter is standing at the bottom beside a long staircase, which follows the cliff all the way up. At the top of this staircase is a cottage, small and round, but isolated and beautiful on the top of the cliff.

Gretchen follows Claire to where Peter is waiting alone, having sent the other two up the stairs ahead of them. He is standing with his arms folded tightly across his chest, a stern and disappointed expression on his face. He locks eyes with Claire and steps in front of her, blocking her way to the stairs.

"Not yet," he tells her. "We've got some talking to do. Gretchen, would you mind going on up and letting Stephanie get you settled in? I promise this won't take long."

Gretchen swallows hard, his coldness unsettling to her finally relaxed nerves. "Of course," she manages to choke out. "I'll just ... yeah ..."

She leaves Claire and Peter alone in their silent stare-down and begins her long walk up the stairs towards the cottage. Behind her, she hears heated whispers beginning to be exchanged ... but she can hear nothing of what's being said.

* * *

"Why in the world would you ever risk leaving Hiro's side?" hisses Peter as soon as Gretchen has started up the stairs. "That was foolish, Claire! Just like the robberies. I've warned you not to be so damn _impulsive_!"

"What else was I supposed to do?" asks Claire, folding her arms as well, and matching his expression to a tee. "I couldn't just stay in the past hiding forever, Pete! I had to know what the hell was going on and _stop it_ ... before all of our kind goes the way of the dinosaur!"

"No one is going _extinct_, here, Claire," he corrects. "That's _not_ the danger. Don't you get it? I told you to stay with Hiro for a reason! Because the greatest danger of all is to _you_, Claire! _You!_"

"We are _all_ in danger, Pete," she insists. "Look, I don't know where you've _been_ the last two years, but ..."

"You want to know where I've been?" he asks, walking away from her a few steps towards the beach. "I've been out trying to protect _you_. Trying to find out as much as I could about the government's plans. Developing a network of other evolves, to work together to uncover information. ... Claire, this is a lot more complicated than we originally thought. There's a lot we didn't know. And I had planned to tell you ... _soon_. But ... I never imagined you would pull a stunt like this! If I had thought for one second that you might leave the protection of Hiro's side, I would have told you_ immediately_."

"Told me what?" Claire demands to know, unfolding her arms to follow him.

Peter walks on, shaking his head. "You have no idea what you've risked by coming here," he tells her as she catches up. "But ... I guess that's really my fault for not telling you everything sooner."

"How about you tell me everything _now_?" replies Claire, giving him a look of impatience.

"Claire ... we've got to find Hiro and get you out of the present before they find you again," he insists. "It's_ you_ they're looking for ... don't you get it yet? They don't want _us_ anymore. The game is changing. Look at the bomb that they left in Angela's car ... that was for _you_, not for Angela. If they had wanted Angela, they would have taken her by now."

Claire swallows hard. "They planted the bomb before Angela _gave_ me the car," she breathes out with sudden realization. "Which means ... they knew where Angela was all along."

"_And_, they didn't take her off to become part of some evolve army," adds Peter with emphasis. "They only used her to get to _you_. They aren't interested in building an army anymore. They want an army of _one _now ... and, that army is _you_, Claire!"

Claire laughs disbelievingly. "Why would I be considered an army of one, Pete?" she asks, raising her brow. "I'm just a healer who happens to know some kick-ass karate moves. I'm hardly the brand of weapon _you_ are, for instance."

Peter stops walking suddenly and takes hold of her arm, turning her to face him. The look in his eyes is one of warning and _fear_.

"Actually," he says, "it's not exactly _you_ they want ... it's your _child_."

Claire laughs again. "Well, now I _know_ you're going crazy," she tells him, "because I don't _have_ a child, Pete. Look around. Do you _see_ any rug-rats hanging around?"

"You don't have a child _yet_," he corrects, still holding tight to her arm. "But ... you _will_, Claire. And he will have the most _powerful_ ability anyone's ever seen ..."

Claire jerks her arm away and takes a big step back, a sudden look of horror on her face.

*****************

Gretchen enters the cottage and sees Stephanie in the small kitchen, pouring two cups of tea. She smiles at Gretchen, who is standing idly just inside the front door, and gestures for her to come up the small landing to join her. Gretchen steps up shyly and takes a seat at the bar. Stephanie takes the stool across from her and slides a cup of tea her way, taking the other for herself.

Her smile is warm and infectious, and Gretchen smiles back despite her growing feeling of dread, which began the moment Peter sent her upstairs alone.

"Where is Rene?" asks Gretchen, looking around the open room for signs of the Haitian.

"Taking a shower," explains Stephanie, sipping at her tea. "Would you like to see your room?"

"I'd rather wait for Claire ... if that's okay."

"Of course," says Stephanie. "Whatever you'd like. I'm sure it can't be very comfortable for you ... being in a strange place with strange people. Peter really should have waited to have his talk with Claire until morning."

Gretchen bites down on her bottom lip, working up the courage to ask the burning question on her mind. "Wha ... What exactly are they talking _about_ ... do you know?"

Stephanie takes a deep breath and sits up straighter, cradling the small china cup in her hands as if for warmth. "I have a pretty good _idea_," she tells her. "But ... it's probably not my business to say. I should let Claire share that with you when she returns."

"_Okay_," says Gretchen, feeling even more uneasy than she had a second ago. "Can you give me a _hint_? Is he angry because she brought _me_ here?"

Stephanie smiles reassuringly. "No," she promises. "It's got nothing to do with you. He's only worried about his niece, just as he always is. He feels it's his duty to watch out for her. Please, try not to worry. I'm sure everything's going to be just fine."

Gretchen looks her over, studying her for obvious tells, as a poker player would his opponent. "Is Claire in _danger_ here?"

"Isn't Claire _always_ in danger?" she replies.

"I thought she was _safe_ with Peter." Gretchen says, feeling that queasiness return to her stomach. She hasn't eaten since breakfast, she suddenly realizes. And all this stress is beginning to take it's toll.

"She's as safe as she _can_ be," answers Stephanie, still shrouding the truth from her.

Gretchen takes a deep breath and exhales with frustration, saying, "Look ... I've had a _really_ long day, and I know I shouldn't be taking it out on you, but ... _what the hell is going on here? _If Claire is in more danger, then I want to _know_ about it! NOW!"

Stephanie's face falls, her doomed expression matching that of the one Peter had on the beach. "She's in more danger now than ever, I'm afraid," she finally tells Gretchen.

Gretchen closes her eyes tight, a feeling of dread overtaking her senses.

In an effort to console her, Stephanie reaches out a hand and takes Gretchen's in her own, giving it a squeeze. "You have to trust _Peter_," she says to Gretchen softly. "He will do everything in his power to keep Claire safe."

"I don't even _know_ Peter," Gretchen reminds her, opening her eyes again, and taking back her hand. "All I know is that I finally found the life that I want, and now I'm afraid it's just going to slip right out of my hand again."

*******************

"I can't _have_ a child, Peter," Claire claims, her eyes still wide with terror. "I'm a _lesbian_ ... remember? It kind of takes _sperm_ to make a baby."

"They've already _got_ that ingredient," Peter tells her with all seriousness. "The perfect sperm for your perfect eggs. It's all been arranged. All they need is _you_, Claire."

"But ... can I even _carry_ a child?" she asks, turning away from him, a hand protectively covering her flat stomach. She looks out at the waves as they wash over the shore and tries desperately to look into the future herself, but sees nothing but her own fears. If only she were a painter instead of a healer ... things would be so much easier.

"I don't know if your body would hold a pregnancy," he admits. "But, it really doesn't matter, Claire. They've been breeding evolves for _years_ already. They have incubators ... surrogates. All kinds of ways of getting around an uncooperative womb. They won't let anything stop them. The only way to stop them is _by making sure you never get captured in the first place_."

"How do they know my child will be ... powerful?" she asks, as if she doesn't already have a clue. "... How do _you_?"

"Painters ... of course," he replies simply. "They're like a dime a dozen these days. I have one working for me, and _so do they_. Both our sources see the same vision."

"How do you know what _their_ painter sees?" she continues to question.

"I have a double agent, working inside their organization," he explains. "An evolve, with a power similar to Matt Parkman's. He tells me everything he can of what their painter sees ... and, I'm sorry, Claire ... but, it's the same vision _ours_ is seeing."

She turns back around to face him, her hands stuffed deep in the pockets of her shorts. "What's the vision? Please ... I have to know."

He takes a deep breath and shuffles his feet, looking as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. "In the future, your son will be _raised_ by this ... _government force_ ... and he will be taught to use his power against our kind, and erase us _entirely_."

Claire takes a step back, closing her eyes tight against this truth. "Why _me_, Pete? Did the visions tell you_ that_? Why am_ I _the one that has to give birth to this_ ... spawn of Satan?_ "

"I don't know," he says with a sigh. "I'm not even sure what your son's ability will be. I only know that they want him to be _born_ ... _at all costs_."

Claire opens her eyes again and stares him down, her panic turning into a desperate need for preparedness. "What _else_ have you found out that you haven't told me yet?"

Peter returns her stare, warning in his deep brown eyes. "I know how the government got involved in this again, and it wasn't just Noah's files. They have an evolve _leader_ ... of sorts. A woman who hates her own kind so much, she went out of her way to start a war against us. And, Claire ... this may come as kind of a shock to you, because ... well ... we kind of all thought she was _dead_."

"What are you saying?" Claire asks, stepping forward again. "That I _know_ this person you're talking about?"

"You _did_ ... once," Peter explains, his voice soft and hesitant. "It's Elle, Claire. Elle Bishop. She's _alive_ ... and she wants revenge on us_ all_."

* * *

Gretchen couldn't get any further information out of Stephanie. So, she finally gave up and asked politely to be shown her room, which she discovered was not so small as she would have imagined from looking at the cottage from below earlier.

The room is open and spacious, and has a large set of double doors that lead out to a patio facing the ocean below. Gretchen opens these at once upon being left alone, and takes a deep breath of the fresh sea air. She stands there at the open doors for quite a while, telling herself that Claire will be popping her head inside any moment now. But ... when that moment continues to grow longer and longer, she turns back around and begins peering around the room for something to busy herself with.

She finds that the room is scattered with candles, and decides to search for some way of lighting them.

After feeling around inside a desk drawer, she finds a lighter, and proceeds to move from candle to candle around the room, lighting each and every one, thinking that this will make for a more relaxing environment for Claire to return to. The task calms her as well, and she feels better once she's completed it. She takes a step back and regards the glowing room with pride in a job well done.

She can't do _much_ for Claire right now, given her lack of information, but ... she could at least do this. And, looking things over again, with the candlelight shining softly upon the large canopied bed in the center of the room, she suddenly realizes this wasn't just for Claire. It was for _both_ of them. After all that had already happened today, this was the least they deserved.

She sits on the end of this bed and sighs, crossing her legs impatiently. Now ... _if only Claire would walk through that door_.

*******************

"_Elle_?" Claire asks Peter, her eyes wide. "But ... how is that _possible_? My dad told me that Sylar _killed_ her."

"He did," Peter agrees, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "... Claire, look ... there's a lot Noah _didn't tell_ you. I know it isn't fair, but ... he was only trying to _protect_ you from things."

"Like the fact that Elle was _alive_?" she asks. "What _else _didn't my dad tell me?"

"Well ... he also didn't tell you that it was _your blood_ that he used to heal her," Peter says.

"What do you mean ... _used to heal her_?"

"He thought she might be of use to us," Peter explains. "In our fight against Sylar. She knew things about him that we didn't. Things we might have been able to use _against_ him."

"So ... he just took my blood without telling me ... and used it to _heal Elle_?"

"He thought it was the right thing to do ... _at the time_," continues Peter in Noah's defense. "He had no way of knowing that she would run from us. And, he certainly had no way of knowing that she would turn against us the way she did. In fact, I'm not even sure he knew that she _had_. We all assumed that she had disappeared to _hide from us_ ... not to turn us over to the government."

Claire shakes her head and prepares to run past him, back towards the stairs to the cottage. Peter grabs her arm and pulls her back.

"Claire ... wait," he says.

"_No_," says she firmly, pulling her arm away. "Just ... let me go, Peter. I have to _think_ about this. Don't you get it?"

"Don't _you_, Claire?" he asks, raising his brows. "We have to find Hiro and get you and Gretchen _the hell out of here_ ... before Elle comes looking for you herself!"

"You think I'm afraid of _Elle_?" she asks disbelievingly. "I've tangoed with Miss _shooting sparks_ before, Peter ... remember? There's nothing she can do to me that she hasn't tried already."

"She's a lot more powerful now," he tells her. "_She's_ evolved, the same as you have ... and, she has _a lot of_ friends. Friends with _all kinds_ of abilities."

"So we'll _deal_ with it," says she, stubborn as ever, "in the _morning_. Right now, it's late, and I have a gorgeous woman waiting for me. She's been waiting five years already, Pete. I'm not making her wait any longer."

With that, Claire turns and makes her way towards the stairs, her shoulders slumped, and her head still shaking in shock.

Peter stays on the beach and watches on, his own head shaking as well. For once, he wishes Claire had not inherited his family's stubborn streak. Had she been Noah's biological child, she would be safe right now. Normal, mortal, and _safe_.

*to be continued ...*


	12. Chapter 12

Five Years Later: Chapter Twelve

Claire is tired and stressed when she reaches the room Stephanie has directed her to, and is looking down at the hardwood floor beneath her feet when she opens the door. But, aware at once that the room is bathed in candlelight, she lifts her head with surprised eyes, and the quivering light catches within them, setting them ablaze with green and blue flecks.

Gretchen is sitting on the side of the bed with her legs crossed, but uncrosses them and leans forward expectantly with a shy smile.

"Wow," exhales Claire, gazing around the room. "You've been busy while I was talking with Pete."

"The candles were already here, so ... I can't really take too much credit," says Gretchen with a shrug.

Claire takes a few steps closer, her dazzling eyes locking in on Gretchen's now; her smile warm and reassuring.

"Well, I think it's beautiful," she tells her. "Thank you. You have no idea how badly I needed something like this. And ... to see you waiting here for me this way ... that's the best part."

Gretchen clears her throat, blushing, and says, "So? What did Peter have to say? What new danger are we facing now?"

Claire sighs, and her shoulders fall along with her smile. She sits down next to Gretchen on the bed and says, "Do we have to talk about that _now_?"

"Well ... yeah, _kinda_," answers Gretchen. "I'm not going to be able to stop worrying until you tell me."

"Really?" says Claire, stretching back on the bed and giving her a lustful grin. "Cause, I'm feeling pretty relaxed already. You know ... with all the candlelight, and the ocean outside, and ... _you_. You sure you don't want to just ... you know ... _turn in_?"

Gretchen's back stiffens under her stare, and her palms immediately break out in a cold sweat, but she is determined not to lose focus.

"But ... the way Peter was looking at you," she continues, "and the way Stephanie was acting ... I know something is up, Claire. Something, you know ... _worse than usual_. I can't just pretend that ..."

Claire reaches out a hand, placing it just beneath Gretchen's shirt, and runs it slowly up her bare back. In response, Gretchen's sentence stops cold. In fact, she has forgotten what she was saying entirely.

"Gretch," says Claire, her voice low and throaty, "my life is _always_ in danger. Waiting to talk about it until morning isn't going to change anything. Come on ... lay back with me. I promise I won't bite."

For a split second, Gretchen seriously considers taking her up on this. Claire's hand is warm and soft on her back, and the sensation is causing pleasant sparks to run throughout her body. And, the way she is _looking_ at her ... like she hasn't had a bite to eat in weeks and Gretchen is a fried pork-chop ... She certainly can't remember having ever seen _that_ look on Claire before.

The whole scenario makes her want to jump up, bolt the door, and never come out of this room _again_.

But, instead, she shakes her head and jumps up for a different reason ... To break their connection before she _gives in_ to _that look_ ... and wakes up in the morning with the whole world crashing in around them.

"Claire!" she exclaims, her cheeks flushed. And, she laughs a little, despite herself. "Look ... I know you are _used_ to this, but I'm still developing a tolerance for constant danger, okay? Just ... tell me what's going on. _Please?_"

Claire sighs and leans up on one elbow. "If I tell you," she says, giving Gretchen a stern look, "do you promise it's not going to ruin the rest of what's left of our night?"

"How can I promise you that?" asks Gretchen. "I don't even know what you're going to tell me yet."

"That's kind of the point, Gretch," says Claire with a smile. "Just promise me ... you know ... that I can _tell_ you, and we can _move on_."

Gretchen regards her with disbelieving eyes, as if she's gone mad.

Claire sits up a little more, still leaning on her elbows. "This is how things work in my world," she tells her. "You face the danger, then you move on. It's the only way to survive and stay sane at the same time. Trust me, Gretch. The sooner you learn that, the easier it will be for you. I mean ... you _do_ want to be in my life now ... _right_?"

"More than anything," breathes out Gretchen, without really meaning to.

Claire's smile grows. "Good," she says. "Then, promise me. Promise me that I can tell you, and you'll put it out of your mind right away."

Gretchen hesitates. "_Right_ away?"

"_Right away_," repeats Claire, laughing.

"Fine," Gretchen finally agrees with a sigh. "I _promise_. Now ... will you tell me what's going on?"

Claire sits up all the way now, exhaling her own sigh. Now that she's faced with telling her for real, she's not even sure if _she'll_ be able to put it out of her mind.

_Couldn't you have just waited until morning? _ Claire wonders, trying hard to cover her frustration.

"Peter didn't want me to come here," she tells Gretchen. "He wanted me to stay with Hiro in 1954."

"Because of Becky?"

"No. Well ... not really _just_ Becky. As it turns out, I'm a little more popular than I thought."

"Huh?"

"Remember that pesky little government force Becky turn-coated with?"

"How could I forget?"

"Well ... they've kind of given up on chasing _other_ evolves, and are refocusing their efforts on mainly just chasing ... well ... _me_."

_And I'm supposed to be able to put this out of my mind?_ Thinks, Gretchen, feeling the ground beneath her give way ... for about the _thousandth_ time today.

"_What?_" asks she, almost afraid to hear the rest.

Claire leans forward and grabs her hand, pulling her towards the bed. "It's all right, Gretch," she soothes. "I promise. They aren't going to _catch me_, okay? We'll find Hiro in the morning and go back to 1954 ... maybe forever. Think you could handle that? Living with me in the Fifties? I know they weren't as tolerant of _lesbians_ back then, but ... what they don't know about won't kill them. Or ... we could live in Europe! The Fifties were totally different in Europe!"

"Claire, slow down!" says Gretchen with a nervous laugh. "I would live anywhere with you;_ anytime_. But, you're not getting out of this that easily, okay? I know there's more you aren't telling me. Just spill it."

Claire's nose wrinkles as she furrows her brows. "How can you tell?"

"Because," says Gretchen, taking a seat beside her again. "You always try and change the subject and start talking a mile a minute when you don't want to tell me something."

Claire smiles. _Does she remember that from five years ago? _ She wonders.

"Well," she says to Gretchen, "I guess I just don't see the point. I mean, why worry you over something that might not even ..."

"Might not even _what_?"

"... _happen_," says Claire.

"_What_ might not even happen?"

"The painters ... the ones that see the future ...? Peter says they are all having the same vision. And ... this one kind of involves me in a big way."

"But ... I thought your painter died in the explosion today."

"He probably did, but ... there are a lot more. And Peter is in contact with one. He also knows of another one, working for the government, and that one _also_ has the vision. Peter knows this because he has a man on the inside, working for _us_. That's how he knows _all _of this."

"Okay," says Gretchen, feeling overloaded with information again. "So ... wh ... what's the _vision_?"

Claire takes a deep breath in preparation. "Well ..." she says, "it seems I am destined to be a _mother_ soon. And, not just _any_ mother either ... the mother of some super-charged devil child that's supposed to rise up against our kind and destroy us all."

Gretchen laughs, causing Claire to regard her with an odd look.

"I'm sorry," says Gretchen, "It's just ... you're not _serious_ right now ... right? You're just punking me."

Claire looks back at her with nothing _but_ seriousness. "I wish I were," she says softly. "But ... it's the truth. Peter wouldn't lie to me."

"Couldn't the painters be _wrong_?" asks Gretchen, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest.

Claire turns, taking her hand again. "They don't have to be _right_," she tells her. "If we do what Peter says; if we go back to 1954, then Elle will never find me, and the child will _never be born_."

"Elle?" asks Gretchen. "Who's _Elle_? Claire, if you tell me she's another ex-girlfriend out to kill me, I swear to God ..."

Claire laughs and pulls her closer, resting her blond curls on Gretchen's shoulder. "There are no more ex-girlfriends, I promise."

"Then, who is she?" Gretchen persists.

Claire sits back up and smiles at her, still holding tight to her hand. "You _know_ ..." she says, ignoring Gretchen's last question, "... I seem to remember you making _me_ a promise just a few minutes ago ... You about ready to make good on that?"

"But ... Claire, you still haven't _told_ me everything."

"I've told you enough," swears Claire, her voice doing that low and throaty thing again. "Please, Gretch ... Just for tonight, can't we just forget about all this craziness? Five years ago, I thought this moment would never _happen_. I thought I'd lost you _forever_. And now, here we are ... sitting in candlelight. I mean, do you really want to waste one more ..."

Claire doesn't need to finish her thought. Gretchen was following along closely, and jumped on board from the moment she said, "and now, here we are." By the time she gets to, "do you really want to waste one more ..." Gretchen's already made up her mind. She blindsides Claire with a kiss, and leans into it, slowly pushing her back against the mattress.

After her surprise wears off, Claire instinctively rolls Gretchen over and pins her, returning the kiss, and intensifying it. Her grip on Gretchen's forearms as she presses them against the bed is shockingly strong, but it only causes Gretchen's body to tremble that much more. The power Claire has over her is intoxicating, and she only craves more of it.

Already breathless from the exchange, Claire arches her back to look at Gretchen, pulling her now wild mane of hair out of her face as she does so.

"Are you okay?" she asks. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"Just ... tell me you aren't just doing this because you think we'll never have the chance again," Gretchen pleads, also breathing hard.

Claire smiles, the candlelight flickering in her eyes again. She takes one hand away from Gretchen's arm and slides it down her stomach slowly. "I'm not going anywhere," she promises, unbuttoning Gretchen's pants. "I _swear_ to you."

*to be continued ...*


	13. Chapter 13

Five Years Later: Chapter Thirteen

Hours later, Gretchen is sleeping soundly next to Claire, curled up against her in a fetal position, her bare back warm against Claire's chest. Claire holds tight to her, but is wide awake herself, and feels an indescribable need to get up. The candles are burning low and need to be extinguished anyway. And, they forgot to close the balcony doors before getting under the covers ... _which happened rather quickly_, she remembers with a smile. She can hear the waves lapping up against the shore, and the sea air is calling to her. She takes a deep breath of it, and makes up her mind to get out of bed and look outside for a bit.

She carefully detaches herself from Gretchen's sleeping form, and Gretchen releases a drowsy moan in response, but does not wake up. As Claire steps out of the covers, naked and chilled by the outside breeze, Gretchen rolls over and smiles in her sleep, her eyes still blissfully closed.

Claire pulls the covers up around her to keep her warm and watches her for a moment, stroking her hair gently as she sleeps.

"My God, you're beautiful," she whispers, hoping Gretchen will hear this subconsciously. "I don't think I've told you that yet. Why haven't I told you that?"

Gretchen stirs peacefully at this, and Claire stands up, not wanting to risk waking her any further. It's a been a very long day ... for both of them. She can tell Gretchen everything she's feeling in the morning.

And she is feeling _a lot_.

She first walks around the room blowing out candles, then looks for something to cover herself with. Finding a robe in the closet, she pulls it around her and sighs pleasantly at the warmth it brings.

Then, she walks out onto the balcony and takes another deep breath, closing her eyes, and letting it fill all her senses. Opening them again, she gazes out at the stirring ocean and leans against the railing, her hair blowing wildly in the wind. Immediately her thoughts return to Gretchen ... and to what they just shared. As she allows the images of it to replay in her mind, her knees go weak, and she has to grip the railing to keep from losing balance for a second. Just the image of the way Gretchen had _looked_ at her as they were making love is enough to cause her whole body to tremble.

And then, she suddenly realizes something. She's had sex before, but ... she had never _made love_ to anyone until now. She has never _been in love at all_ until now. The thought of this is warm and reassuring ... _at first_, and she clutches her heart with one hand, as if placing Gretchen protectively within it.

But, as she feels her heart pounding hard beneath her hand, it is hard to ignore another thought that has been trying to creep in _uninvited_ all along. The thought that has been keeping her awake in the first place; eating away at her and threatening to invade the _peace_ that tonight has brought her ...

_What if I can't stop Elle? What if the vision comes true? What have I gotten Gretchen into?_

She is so busy obsessing over her fear, that she doesn't remember to use it to her own advantage. She doesn't even stop to think that Elle may already _be here_ ... lurking in the shadows.

And, soon enough, she feels a grip on her arm out of nowhere. The grip is strong, and is accompanied by a light jolt of electricity. Claire snaps to attention, surprised, but not in pain.

Still holding tight to Claire's arm, Elle Bishop gives her a wicked smile and says in a whisper, "Shh ... wouldn't want to wake the new girlfriend, would we? I think that would be a _tragic mistake_ on your part right now, don't you?"

Claire swallows her fear down and gives Elle a fierce look in return. "Why?" she replies. "Aren't you just going to kill her anyway?"

Elle laughs at this, and, next to her, Becky also materializes, looking pretty fierce herself ... and pissed off.

"That would be _my_ vote," Becky chimes in.

"Now, now, Becky," cautions Elle. "Settle down. Let's not do anything _rash_. Besides ... what would be the fun in killing her _now_? There's plenty of time for that _later_ ... after the game's had time to get more interesting ... you know what I mean?"

"Where's the Haitian?" asks Claire, ignoring Elle's sadistic comments.

"Taken care of," answers Elle. "We kind of got the jump on him before he had time to wake up and use that awesome little power on us. I must say ... that's a handy little trick he has. Not very common, from what I know. He'll be _very_ useful to us in the future."

Too angry to hold back anymore now, Claire fights to free herself. But, Elle only laughs at her efforts and intensifies the electric current pulsing through her.

Despite her tolerance for pain, the current still renders Claire useless. It can't kill her, but it can certainly subdue her ... for now.

"Will you stop _struggling_ already?" asks Elle, still laughing. "You're going to wake your precious Gretchen if you're not careful ... and, I _promise_ you: I will fry her in two seconds flat if you don't start behaving yourself."

Claire stops as warned immediately, still giving Elle a murderous look, but no longer making any attempts to free herself.

"What about Peter?" asks Claire. "What have you done with him and Stephanie?"

"Oh, don't worry about the Prince of All Powers," assures Elle. "He and his other half are sleeping away like angels, and will be for hours. They've been injected with the most powerful drug ... _believe me_. Wouldn't work on _you_, of course, but ... even Peter isn't immune to modern medicine."

"He'll come for you, Elle," warns Claire, still without struggle. "You have to know that."

"Oh, I do, Claire," replies Elle with a knowing smile. "Trust me, I _do_. Why, that's going to be the best part ... _eventually_. For now, though, I'll just settle for you coming with us ... quietly. And, we'd better hurry too. Girlfriend's gonna wake up _any second_ now."

Claire looks back at the room with a deep look of sorrow. Gretchen's motionless form still lies beneath the covers Claire had tucked her into moments earlier, blissfully unaware that their worst fears are currently occurring just outside the open balcony doors.

_I'm sorry, Gretchen,_ Claire thinks to herself, her heart breaking ... _I am so, so sorry._

Growing impatient, Elle pulls at her arm, and Claire follows. With Becky leading the way, they all three disappear into the night ...

Headed for where, Claire has no idea. It's really the _what_ that concerns her now.

*************

Gretchen stirs and turns in her sleep to snuggle with Claire, but is awakened by the immediate realization that Claire is not beside her anymore. Concerned, but not fearfully so, she sits up and looks around the dark room. The candles have all been extinguished, and the only light in the room is from the full moon, shining in from the open balcony doors in front of her.

She pulls the covers aside and swings her legs out of the bed, and is suddenly reminded of the fact that she is completely naked. Pulling the comforter off the bed, she wraps it around her nude form and walks slowly towards the balcony.

All of a sudden, her heart is racing a mile a minute.

_Where is Claire?_

The balcony is empty. And, looking out over the railing, she sees that the beach is empty as well. There isn't a soul in sight. And, that racing in her heart is getting faster and faster by the second.

She starts to panic. Forgetting that all she has on is a comforter, she runs back into the room, out it's door, and down the hallway.

"Claire!" she starts screaming out. "_Claire!_"

She frantically opens the door to Peter and Stephanie's room, running to their bed to shake them awake.

"Peter, Peter," she calls out, shaking his arm. "Wake up! Wake up, Peter! _She's gone!_"

Too impatient to wait for him to stop snoozing, she runs back out of the room and races to Rene's room next, throwing open the door in a mad rush, without even considering to knock first. His bed is unmade, but empty. He is also nowhere in sight.

Gretchen feels her heart literally start to break, an actual pain seizing her chest, and she grabs at her heart for a moment. She can barely breathe, the pain is so real, but she can't give up on Claire now. Not after what they shared.

_I said I needed to be stronger for her, and that's what I'm going to do. Damn it, Gretchen! Toughen up!_

With this thought playing over and over in her head now, like a mantra to beat a drum to, she runs back to Peter's room and stands over him, wondering what to do next. He and Stephanie have clearly been drugged, either supernaturally or otherwise. And, not knowing what else to do; and desperate to do _something_, she steels herself, gathering every ounce of strength she has in her ... _and slaps Peter across the face as hard as she can_.

He winces, shutting his eyes tighter against the pain, but does not wake all the way up.

Nevertheless, it is all the hope she needs. She grabs both of his arms and begins shaking him again.

"Peter, Peter!" she screams, "Wake up! _Please_, Peter ... Wake up, God damn it!"

Finally, Peter blinks his eyes open, and regards her with a strange look.

"What the ..." he starts to say, trying to sit up on his elbows. "What's happened? Why is everything so blurry?"

"They've drugged you!" Gretchen exclaims. "_Elle_ has drugged you ... and taken Claire! Please, Peter! You've got to wake up!"

Alert at once, Peter jumps from the bed, panic taking over his features. "Are you _sure_?" he asks.

"She's not in our room," she tells him. "She's not on the beach. She's not answering my screams! And, Rene is gone too! _Where else could they be at four o'clock in the morning?_"

Peter takes her arm gently and urges her out of the room and into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

"Did you _see_ Elle?" he asks, the panic in his eyes gone, replaced with a look of sheer focus and determination.

"Well ... no. But, she _told_ me about her ... that Elle was after her. And ... about the baby," says Gretchen, swallowing down the lump in her throat. "That's where she is ... right? They've taken her to ... _impregnate her._"

Taking note of the terror in Gretchen's eyes, Peter gives her arm a reassuring squeeze. "We'll find her," he tells her. "I promise. We're not going to let Elle get away with this, Gretchen ... I swear to you."

"That _we_ does include _me_ ... right?" she asks.

He lets go of her arm and takes a step back, shaking his head with a confused smile. "What do you mean ... _include you_?"

"I _mean_, you're not going to go flying off to find Claire _without_ me ... right?"

"You know Claire would want you to stay here and be safe," Peter replies, giving her a stern look that reminds her of Claire. "You _have_ to know that, Gretchen. She would never forgive me if I let anything _happen_ to you."

"I really don't give a shit _what_ happens to _me_ anymore," she tells him, her words almost coming out as a growl. "All I care about right now is getting Claire _back_ ... safe; where she belongs. And, _unpregnant_, if we can help it!"

"Look, Gretchen," he says, trying his best to sound reasonable. "No offense, but ... you've got no powers. You're helpless against these people, and Claire knows it. If you came with me, you'd only be putting her in more danger."

"How is that even _possible_? There's no such thing as _more _danger, Peter. This is already as dangerous as it gets ... and I can tell you agree with me. I could see it in your eyes the moment I told you they'd taken her!"

He sighs and shuffles his feet. "Fine. Say I take you with me. How am I supposed to protect you and protect Claire at the same time? Did you ever think of that?"

"I'm not totally useless, you know," says Gretchen, pulling the comforter tighter around her. "I used to be a cop. But ... you already knew that ... didn't you?"

Suddenly, Gretchen is taken back to the day she was handed Claire's case in New York. She had bumped into a man at the coffee shop ... a man with a crooked smile, who had spilled coffee on her, and then had rushed out after a brief apology.

"You were following me in New York," she says, realizing this for the first time. "Weren't you?"

Peter looks down, then back up with a shy smile. "I had to make sure you would fall on Claire's side, when the chips came down. I was _already_ against her robbery scheme. I knew that the last thing she needed was you turning against her."

"And, you must have decided I was okay," Gretchen surmises, "Or ... I wouldn't _be here_ right now ... would I?"

He shakes his head in confirmation, smiling in belated apology.

"So ... why not allow me to help you _now_? Help _her_ now?" she asks, a look of unfaltering determination on her face. "I wouldn't be _asking _if I thought it would put her in more danger ... _surely you can see that_."

"You can't defend yourself against Elle with a _Glock_, Gretchen," he says, as if she hasn't already assumed that herself.

"Claire can't defend herself _either_ ... at least, not any more than _I_ can," she points out. "She said she had learned martial arts. Peter, I can do that too! I can learn _anything_ ... and I _will_ learn anything ... if it will save Claire and _bring her back where she belongs_!"

"What you're talking about could take months," he tells her, "years even. It takes some people a _lifetime_."

"We don't have a _lifetime_," she agrees with emphasis, "But, I'm a quick learner. How soon can we get started?"

Peter sighs, considering this, and rubs at his chin in thought for a moment.

"It will take time for me to find out where Elle's taken Claire," he admits finally. "She has a thousand different locations at her disposal ... and I'm sure the one she's taken her to is the one place I don't _already_ know about. In the meantime, I suppose it wouldn't hurt if you went through some training with Hiro ... I guess, the least we could do is give you the chance. After all ..."

Suppressing a grin, he rubs at his chin again and says, "... I can see by the way you're dressed that you and my niece have gotten ... more _familiar_? I totally get why you want to come with me. If it were Stephanie going through this ... well ... there isn't a force on Earth that could stop me from finding her _at all costs_."

Both embarrassed by his comments and relieved by his decision, Gretchen pulls the comforter tighter again and says, "So ... when can we start?"

"Soon," he answers. "Hiro is coming in a few hours. I'll send you with him when he gets here, and I'll start looking for Claire."

Gretchen closes her eyes. Now that they have an actual plan, her focus is beginning to shift from panic to a deep sadness. She knows she'll have to suck it up later. She knows she'll have to find a way to shove that sadness down, in order to focus on saving Claire. But ... just for now, she gives it one last moment to show itself; one last moment to rear it's ugly head before she squashes it forever.

"Peter," she breathes out, her eyes still tightly shut against the world. "Please tell me we're going to find her. Please tell me she's going to be all right."

He places a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it in affirmation. "We'll find her, Gretchen. I promise."

Letting the tears fall finally, she collapses against him and begins to weep. He puts his arms around her tight without a word, and gives her that moment she so desperately needs.

_I'm not going to let them hurt you, Claire. I'll find you, I swear. If it's the last thing I do ... I'm going to bring you back safe._

But, even as she's thinking _this_, she cannot help thinking as well: _What are they doing to you? What is Elle putting you through right now? Are you suffering?_

And ... it is almost enough to drive her mad with grief.

*the end ... for now ...*


End file.
